


sensational

by falconeggs



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sense8, Canon Compliant, Canon-typical language, Coming Out, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Psychic Bond, Slow Burn, i know but just stick with me, well as much of a slow burn as i can get
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:01:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 26,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22534396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falconeggs/pseuds/falconeggs
Summary: Throughout a person’s life, one experiences many kinds of births and deaths. While revenue agents swarmed his family home and ripped from him every shred of dignity he had, David Rose was reborn as a sensate, a human sub-species with a psychic connection to seven others, spread across the globe. From a dingy room in a roadside motel, David sees the world, and learns for the first time that he’s not alone.Or, the Sense8 AU no one asked for.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose, Theodore "Ted" Mullens/Alexis Rose
Comments: 28
Kudos: 129





	1. precious love

**Author's Note:**

> hey mtv welcome to my crib! this got out of hand with the length, and i still probably could’ve written more, because it goes through most of the series, so at least i have a lil excuse. this author knows absolutely nothing about the places in which they’ve written, so if there are any inaccuracies, i’m sorry. if there are any lil mistakes, just ignore them because i barely edited this. i hope you enjoy it! if you wanna hang, i’m @focksii on tumblr.

“Please, sir, can you step aside?” The agent, who holds a large box containing files from Johnny’s office, begs. He has enough to do, without the dramatic circus this family is creating. Taking a multi-million dollar family’s assets is quite a to-do, and he won’t get paid overtime for this.

David, with his hands fisted full of his mother’s pearls, refuses. “No, you step aside!” He argues, moving to pointedly be in the agent’s way. “You step aside! I’m still trying to wrap my mind around what kind of sick person gets paid to destroy another person’s life! Destroy another person’s life!” His arguments, no matter how heated and emotional, have absolutely no effect on the revenue agents. They don’t care that David’s life is ruined, they probably don’t even know the Roses’ names.

He hears his mother screaming, he hears his sister yelling into her phone at the current version of Stavros, he hears his father swearing about Uncle Eli. It’s so much emotion, it makes David a little dizzy, makes his head pound. His heart is racing. Is this what a heart attack feels like? Surely, he’s too young to die like this. It would be so embarrassing for him to drop dead right now. Then again, it might be less embarrassing than living with nothing.

Just as it all sweeps into high gear, a woman appears in David’s periphery. He has to turn his whole body to stare at her. She’s got white-blonde hair, cut bluntly at her shoulders, and David thinks her highlights could be better. She’s wearing a flowing, black dress that reaches her ankles that was probably just pulled off a rack, but it looks nice. She’s sweating, and absolutely exhausted, like she just ran a marathon or something equally as treacherous. She’d be prettier if she weren’t so worn-looking.

She looks familiar; at least, she feels familiar to David, even if he knows with absolute certainty that he’s never seen her before. The revenue agents dart around her, like she’s not even there. David’s brow furrows as he stares at her, his mouth falling open and his head tilted to the side in confusion. 

Who is she? Before the thought can fully form, he has an answer. He knows her, even though they’ve never met. Her name is Linnea. Why is she here? Because they’re connected; because she made a connection with him, and he’ll always owe her for that. 

Linnea smiles at David, warm and soft, like a mom in a movie. She looks so relieved to see him. Her smile is so comforting, he momentarily forgets his dire situation. For a spare second, David can breathe easy, even if he’s confused. He wants to ask if anyone else can see her, but he’s not sure he wants to hear the answer to that question right now. Just for a fraction of time, David feels as though he’s reached the eye of the storm, a brief solace in a hurricane.

But before he can take in a calming, meditative breath, David is distracted by an agent with an armful of his designer clothing. “Woah, hey!” He cries, chasing after the agent in question. “Nope. No! Those are my personal items from my personal collection! You brutes allowed us at least that much!” David is quick to yank all of the clothes back, which is difficult when he has two fistfuls of jewelry, but he manages just fine. He turns back to where Linnea stood, but there’s only empty air where she was.

When he gets to his enormous bedroom, and some of the maids are helping pack his belongings, he has the most splitting headache he’s ever had in his life. This is a very bad time to have a migraine. He doesn’t even read the label on the pill bottle before he’s slipping one into his mouth. He grabs another random bottle he stashed away, and takes another, just in case the first isn’t good for headaches. 

-

When David wakes, he’s disappointed to find that yesterday wasn’t a nightmare. He’s really trapped here, in this dumpy town, sharing a motel room with his sister. His head emerges from the scratchy, cigarette-scented sheets to glare at said sister. Alexis is treacherously loud as she goes about her morning rituals. The migraine David thought he’d suppressed yesterday is in full effect. His head throbs and his ears ring. Everything is intensely surreal, and David hates it. He wants it all to stop.

“Would you kindly shut the fuck up?” David groans, lifting his head to glare more directly at Alexis. 

Alexis huffs and rolls her eyes, turning to look at him. “I am going for a run,” she enunciates, clearly annoyed at David. “All of your negativity is really messing with my dedication to finding the new me.” Apparently, a good night’s sleep cured Alexis of any heartbreak she held for Stavros.

It’s David’s turn to roll his eyes. “Well, if you run into her in this town, don’t bring her back here,” he breathes. He can’t even imagine what kind of ‘new me’ Alexis could possibly find here. He doesn’t want to picture her as that waitress at that heinous cafe— what was her name? Shiloh? Twirly? Whatever. 

David pulls the disgusting duvet back over his head, hoping the darkness would relieve some of this headache. It doesn’t. It is quite effective against Alexis, though, as she tones down the noise level. Just as he’s starting to drift back to sleep, Alexis leaves, closing the door loudly behind her. It’s more to do with the door itself than it does with Alexis, but he still hates her, anyway. 

David huffs to himself, gritting his teeth. The darkness reminds him of something. He thinks of the flowing black dress, and the person inside it. Linnea. All of the events yesterday, from the arrival of the agents, to the fucking long bus ride, to their doors being stolen, to having to console a hysterical Alexis, had been superbly perturbing, but they didn’t hold a candle to Linnea. He thinks of her, of their connection, and wonders why they’re connected. 

He tries to distract himself from his obvious psychotic break, but David’s mind keeps looping back to her. Why did he see her? Why did the brief sight of her cause a moment of serenity in David? Was she even real? Obviously, she couldn’t be real, if no one else had seen her. The only thing that distracts David from existential crisis over a hallucination of a woman is an incessant tapping. 

It’s the type of tapping one does on the top of a desk, perhaps when one is bored at work. Fingers tapping against hollow wood to a tuneless beat. It’s just annoying enough to David that he sits upright to glare at the table in his room, only to find the seat empty. Not even that horrendous bitten apple that greeted David yesterday sits at the table now in the dark room. 

“Am I actually going insane?” He whispers to himself, concern rippling through him. He doesn’t want the answer to that question. Instead, he tucks himself back under the covers, hiding from any proof that he’s losing grip on reality. 

Sleep continues to evade him. The tapping stops for a while, then picks back up for a minute, then stops. The cycle carries on for a while. The boredom attached to the tapping leeches in. David’s bored, and he’s never been bored while attempting to sleep. Eventually, the boredom gets the better of David; it’s almost as unbearable as the headache. 

David flings off the covers, gets out of bed, and jumps at the sight of a man sitting at the table. He’s sweet-faced, with short, dark hair, and a strong build under his work clothes. He’s got an ancient Dell laptop open and paperwork strewn all around him. None of that had been there previously. The man, in his soft blue, button-down shirt, taps his fingers as he trudges his way through his boring work. 

“Uh, what the fuck?” David asks, confusion ripping through him. He definitely hadn’t been expecting to see a man in his room when his sister isn’t even here. 

The man’s head snaps up and his eyes lock-on to David’s. “Oh,” he says, simply, and then, David isn’t in his motel room; he’s in a very boring-looking office. 

David’s jaw drops at the sight, looking all around him. Behind him is a glass wall, and, through it, David can see he’s in some sort of small bank. Its beige walls and bland customers make David want to punch himself in the face. “Is this real?” He asks, mostly to himself. 

“Are you?” The man returns. David turns to look at him, at the puzzled expression on his sweet little face. 

“Me? Obviously, I’m real,” David quips. “What kind of hallucination asks if I’m real?” He rolls his eyes. 

The man, at his desk in this tiny bank, gives David an amused smile. “What kind of person hallucinates this?” He asks, leaning back in his chair and gesturing around him. He‘a got a fair point. David’s never been in a place like this; not even the depths of his subconscious could conjure something like this.

David frowns and folds his arms over his chest, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. “Well, I’m definitely real,” he says, primly. “I’m David Rose, you can Google me.” The thought of being Googled now, by some random, the day after his family lost everything, has David grimacing. 

The man smiles warmly at David, something David’s not sure he’s actually witnessed firsthand. “It’s nice to meet you, David Rose,” he says. “I’m Patrick Brewer, and I’m not a hallucination. Why are you in my office?”

David’s face scrunches. Why is he in this man’s office? It’s not like he’s applying for a loan. “I was bored,” he recalls, flippantly. “Why are you in my motel room?”

As he says the sentence, they’re no longer in Patrick’s office, but where they were when David first saw Patrick. They’re back in David’s terrible reality of exposed, painted brick and questionable carpet stains.

“I don’t know,” Patrick admits, softly. David tucks his lips between his teeth, nervously. There’s a lingering silence between them. “Did you see her? Yesterday?”

David’s eyes widen at the reference. He remembers the sight of her, sweating and beautiful, but she’s standing in the bank. David remembers what Patrick saw. His eyes blink rapidly as he tries not to freak out about remembering someone else’s memories. “Linnea,” he breathes. 

Patrick nods in confirmation. “Yeah, Linnea,” he agrees. “Do you know her?”

David shakes his head. “No,” he says. “I just saw her, for a second. It was—. A really bad day yesterday, and she showed up at maybe the worst possible time.”

Patrick’s amused smile only grows. “I think I heard something about— doors?” He asks for confirmation, his brows furrowing slightly. 

David slaps his hands over his eyes and presses. “Oh, my god,” he sighs, shaking his head. He pulls his hands away to glare at Patrick. “A weird man took our doors and I had to put them back on! Do you have any idea how hard that is?”

Patrick’s brow furrows further. “Putting a door back on its hinges?” He repeats. 

“If you had the day I had yesterday, you’d complain about pretty basic privacy, too,” he huffs, shaking out his arms, like that’ll solve all of his problems.

“David, did you say something?” Johnny asks, opening the adjoining door without knocking. That’s an immediate boundary that’s going to have to be set. 

“Oh, my god,” David complains, glaring. “There’s this thing called knocking? Maybe we could work on that? Please?”

“I heard you talking to someone,” Johnny prompts, looking around the room for anyone else. “I thought I heard Alexis say she was going for a run.”

“Ew, were you listening?” David hisses, his face wrinkling in disgust. 

“No—. What?” Johnny stammers. “No, no, I was just-. The walls are very thin, you know. Something I guess we’ll have to adjust to.”

“Oh, my god,” David sighs, sagging in exhaustion. This headache is only getting worse. Or, at least, it’s as bad as it was before, and David didn’t notice when it eased up slightly.

“Were you talking to someone?” Johnny prompts again. 

David looks back at the table and finds it empty. No papers, no laptop, no Patrick. Like he hadn’t even been there. Well, he hadn’t actually been there. Just like David hadn’t actually been in Patrick’s office. 

“Just—. To myself,” David says, shaking his head. He starts to walk across the room to the bathroom, to shower this weirdness off of his body.

“Oh, okay,” Johnny says, sounding surprised for some reason. Had David’s reputation for being fast and loose gotten so broad that his own father expected a hook up, all the way out here? “Well, if you ever want to talk-.”

David slams the bathroom door closed behind him. His dad is still talking, so he turns on the shower, and takes another pill.

-

Hours later, after an uncomfortable late lunch at that cafe, again, when the television is on some local channel and Alexis has her earbuds in, David is visited again. Linnea seems to walk out of the bathroom and into David’s field of vision. She’s even more beautiful than yesterday; she doesn’t look so worn down today. She’s at least a few years older than David, but age is no prerequisite for beauty. Her smile is just as warm as it was the first time he saw it. David’s mouth falls open slightly in surprise. He glances at his sister, not ready to have a one-sided, crazy-person conversation in front of her. Linnea stands at the foot of his bed and extends her hand. David stares at it, at her long, pale fingers for a few moments, and accepts her touch. 

He’s not sitting on his twin bed anymore, but on her couch, in her living room. Her walls are crisp white, with a light, bright blue wall to accent it. Her big windows show the view of a massive edifice, with spires that tower over the rest of the city. Her little apartment is minimally decorated, but very homey, and uses its space well. David really likes her aesthetic choices.

“Wow,” he breathes, turning to look back at Linnea. “Where am I?” His head shakes with equal parts wonder and confusion. “What’s happening to me?” 

Linnea reaches up and brushes his cheek, a fond smile on her face. He can feel her hand, and how cold her fingers are. He can feel the upholstery of her couch under him. He can smell the cinnamon candle burning on the side table. It’s as though he’s really here, in her apartment. Are hallucinations this vivid? 

“You’re not going crazy,” she promises. She’s so steady, so real, he believes her. “Throughout a person’s life, one experiences many kinds of births and deaths. Yesterday, the moment your eyes locked onto mine, you experienced a special kind of birth. You were reborn as a sensate.”

David hesitates. “A what?” He asks. He’s never heard that word before, and she said it like it’s a common word he should know. Maybe he should, it sounds pretty important. 

“There are others, all around the world that are connected to you,” she says. “Maybe you’ve felt them. You’ve heard things they heard, like an unknown song stuck in your head, or tasted what they taste, when you’re having a sweet dessert but it tastes of someone else’s coffee. These people, the ones you’re connected to, are your cluster. You and them are not separate, despite your distance. You are one. A collective.”

There’s a part of David that always felt he was missing something. He spent years and thousands of dollars trying to find something to fill the gap he couldn’t explain. It used to echo inside him, a constant reminder that he was broken. For the first time, he doesn’t feel that way. Now that he’s finally thinking about it, he doesn’t feel that incompleteness anymore. It’s like he’s been waiting his whole life for this, and he had no idea.

Out of the corner of his eye, Patrick appears, walking over to the couch. Patrick smiles faintly at David before looking at Linnea. Behind Patrick is a beautiful, dark-skinned woman in a crop top, an Asian woman with a stunning, ornate head covering, and a Middle Eastern-looking man with a thick beard covering most of his features. David looks at all of them, but his eyes train to Patrick. He can’t seem to look away. Linnea turns to look at them, smiling her warm beam at them. 

“I gave birth to your connection,” she explains to them. “In a way, I am your mother, and you are my children. I will always be here for you. And you will always be here for each other.” Her eyes wander around the room at the others, then fall back on David. “There are eight in every cluster. In time, you’ll share one mind. Anything they can do, you can do. Anything you can do, they can, too. Every breath you’ve ever taken, they’ve taken, too.” 

David gets momentarily distracted at a glimpse of more of his cluster. The bearded man and the woman in the hijab are gone. Instead, there’s a man with long hair and light green eyes, and an Indian woman with the longest, most beautiful hair David has ever seen. There’s another girl, but David hasn’t been able to get a good look at her, only catching the barest peep of her. He only recognizes Patrick, but they’re all familiar to David. Just as quickly as he sees them, they’re gone. They dart around the outskirts of his vision, with only Patrick steadily nearby. Having Patrick beside him on the couch is comforting. Their conversation this morning about both of them not being hallucination helps all this information hit a little softer. 

“Is that why he was in my room today?” David asks, gesturing an impolite thumb at Patrick. “Because he and I make up a quarter of a single mind?”

Linnea’s warm smile takes on an amused hue, a glint if knowing in her eyes. David is clearly not in on it, he doesn’t understand her reaction. “You saw each other?” She asks, looking back and forth between them. “You talked?”

“Not for very long,” Patrick admits, glancing at David. David glances back, and wishes he had a longer look.

“Connections are funny things,” Linnea says, sagely, though it means almost nothing to David. “At first, they come and go, but, with time, visiting and sharing becomes instinctual.”

David’s brow furrows, his head shakes at the unfamiliar words. “Visiting?” He repeats. “Sharing?”

“You two are visiting now,” she explains, very patiently. “You were visiting before. It’s instinctual for us. Any sensate can visit with another outside of their cluster after they’ve established a connection, which forms after direct, in-person eye contact. Visiting is when you find yourself in two places at once. It feels as though you’re here doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” both David and Patrick breathe at the same time. Were they agreeing, or did they share the thought? It was strange, to feel someone so closely. David could feel a sense of wonderment that didn’t belong to him, so he was sure that Patrick could feel is confusion. 

“Sharing is a little different,” Linnea continues. “Sharing is only done within your cluster. You can step into each other’s shoes. You’ll find you can do all sorts of things you never thought possible.”

“How are we supposed to communicate, if we’re all around the world?” David asks, and it feels like a stupid question as he says it. “I mean, English is spoken by a lot of the world, but not that much. My French from high school is tenuous, at best.”

Linnea’s face twists into puzzled amusement. “Do you think I’m speaking English now?” She asks, plainly. 

“Y-you’re not?” He gawks. He looks out the window, at the enormous red-brown building and the city that surrounds it. “Where am I?”

“Uppsala,” she says. “Sweden. I’m speaking Swedish. My English is not so good. Many households in Sweden speak both Swedish and English, but mine wasn’t one of the lucky ones, and I was always envious. There are none who speak English in my cluster. Funny that yours should have three.”

“Three?” David asks. He turns and looks at Patrick. “Do you speak English?”

The corners of Patrick’s mouth turn upwards. “Yes,” he says with a soft nod. “I live in Canada.”

“Oh,” David gasps, leaning back slightly. “Me, too.”

Linnea’s brows raise, her amusement only growing. “So close, too,” she muses, quietly. Both of their eyes snap to hers. “You two must be tired. I remember my headache when I was born. Rest, for now. Remember to drink lots of water. There’s lots of time to learn.” She reaches both hands out and grasps each of their hands. “I’m so happy to meet you both.”

David knows this is his cue. He’s been around long enough to know that this is his invitation to go. He doesn’t want to go, though; this little apartment in Sweden is a nicer home than the one David currently faces. But, because his mind wanders, he finds himself stretched back out on his bed, glancing over when Alexis starts snarling at him.

“God, what are you staring so hard at?” Alexis quips, tossing her hair over one shoulder. She’s not even looking at David, her eyes are trained down to her phone. Every time she types something to someone, the little charm attached to her phone clacks annoyingly against it. 

“Have you ever been to Uppsala?” He asks her, unprompted. 

Alexis sets her phone aside and looks up, remembering. “I went to Stockholm,” she recalls. “It’s got a great nightlife. Uppsala is very-...” She trails off, trying to find the right word. “Academic, I guess.”

“What does that mean?” David asks, his nose wrinkling. 

“I don’t know!” Alexis groans, annoyed that he’s asking about her fun-filled life she’ll never have back. “Like, they’re all little smarties there, so, naturally, they don’t have any fun. They just, like, do science or whatever. It’s kinda a broad statement to make about a whole city I’ve never been to, but I’m pretty sure that’s what Tuva said.”

“Hm,” David grumbles, not actually caring about her answer. Why did he ask her at all? The likelihood of Alexis having bumped into Linnea is so low, he’s not sure why the thought passed at all, even subconsciously. He needs something tangible, something to prove that this is all real. 

David snatches his phone and pulls up a google search. His thumbs hover over the keyboard. He doesn’t even know what to type in to begin. He tosses his phone aside and goes to the bathroom.

In the medicine cabinet behind the speckled mirror is the few medication bottles that he snuggled out of their house. David spills a Xanax into his hand and tosses it back, wincing as he swallows it dry. He splashes a little water on his face and takes a few breaths, willing away someone else’s overwhelming anxiety. Maybe its his, but who can say? When he stands up and regards his reflection, someone walks past him. His whole body tightens at the strangeness of seeing someone he knows isn’t really there and he has to leave. 

Back in the quasi-safety of his bed, David pulls on his big headphones; hopefully they’ll be an obvious deterrent for his family. He’s not interested in conversation right now. He turns his playlist on and elevates the volume, hoping to tune out any background noise from various parts of the world. If he bothers his cluster with his music, he doesn’t care. 

The first thing David looks up is the word ‘sensate’. It takes a couple attempts of trying to remember the word, and then figuring out the spelling, but, eventually he gets there. There’s a short wiki page for a theorized early humanoid, and a few conspiracy websites, arguing for Homo sensorium’s existence. David definitely doesn’t like the implication that he’s not a Homo sapien. He scrolls through a few reddit threads, and learns just enough to know that this sensate thing is legit, but that he should keep quiet about it. He is, according to some Icelandic genetics company with a terrible website, a human sub-species, which David absolutely does not like the sound of. 

He switches gears to Uppsala, discovering that the city does, in fact, exist. That’s not really surprising. The enormous brown building at the center of the city is a university, and not some sort of soft-goth church, as he was expecting. It’s strange, to see pictures of the building he just saw from Linnea’s window. Alexis was right, the city seems very forward-thinking and kind of nerdy. There’s a few successful biochemical engineering companies that call the city home, which makes David shudder. 

His mind drifts to Patrick. David rationalizes this by assuring himself that Patrick is the only one he knows. He hasn’t spoken to the others, or heard their names, or even seen their faces for long enough to remember what they look like. He actively ignores the fact that he’s already attached to Patrick. 

Typing up ‘Patrick Canada’ would be wildly unhelpful. There are thousands of guys named Patrick in Canada; finding David’s is like trying to find a single straw of golden hay in a haystack, not that David would be interested in getting any kind of hay in his clothing. David thinks about the credit union, about the nameplate on Patrick’s desk, about the name of the bank written somewhere, anywhere. 

The answers come. He’s Patrick Brewer, and he’s an assistant business account manager. The letterhead on his stationary reads Edmonton. With a purse of his lips, David types in the name and city, and finds Patrick. 

His Facebook profile has private settings, so David can only see information he already knows: his name, city, and workplace. Seeing Patrick’s profile picture eases David, though. He knows he can’t make this up. He’s got real proof that Patrick exists. His banner photo is of a sports team; based on the gear and the ice rink backdrop, David can guess it’s a hockey team. His eyes scan over the faces and land on Patrick’s, on the right side, at the front. He zooms in on the logo, then looks up the team name, just to make sure that’s real, too. The website for the team is more of a singular page, detailing their game schedule. It doesn’t even list all of the players for the team, so David has no way of stalking his teammates. 

Gritting his teeth, he closes out the tab in his browser, and checks his text messages, just in case he missed a notification. He didn’t, his messages are all dry. He checks a few, to make sure his texts actually sent, and is confirmed that, not only had his friends received the texts, but they’d read and ignored them. 

With a soft huff, David locks his phone and tosses it beside him. He stares up at the ceiling and sinks into his loneliness. He can sort of feel his connection to his cluster, through the headache and through the Xanax finally kicking in, but is too afraid to reach out. What could they do to help him now, anyway?

-

To say that David gets to know his cluster is a wild understatement. Without needing to be introduced, David knows them instinctively. He knows their names, and what they do, and where they live. He sees what they see, and witnesses their lives. He eats bites of their food and sneers at their surroundings. They show up in his motel room and give him unsolicited pep talks that usually make him feel better, even if he won’t admit it. Their lives are a welcome escape from the dreariness that David’s own life has dragged in.

While he’s indescribably close to all of them, he finds himself even closer with a select few. At least, he finds himself with a few more than the others. They’re not like-minded in the slightest, but they start to feel like home, anyway. 

Angelina lives in Colombia, in a little coast town she’s never lived outside of. She’s gorgeous, in a very intimidating way, with warm, dark skin, broad shoulders, and scarred knuckles. Seeing her neighborhood makes David think that Schitt’s Creek probably isn’t so bad. She and all of her neighbors live paycheck to meager paycheck, but they all look out for one another. They have to, it’s rough out there, and they know that no one else will have their backs. She does all sorts of odd jobs for the locals she’s known all her life, from carpentry and plumbing, to roughing up assholes who try to swindle the abuelas. On the side, and whenever someone musters the courage, she fights. As far as David knows, no one has ever beaten her. She’s tough as nails, and desperately needs to get into some kind of skincare, but David likes her. He likes how blunt she is. He likes that she’s capable on her own. 

During that awful turkey shoot that Stevie coerced him to go on, David squeezed his eyes shut, and Angelina fired the gun. David can feel her slowly making him braver.

On the polar opposite of Angelina is Endah. As delicate as a hummed tune, she doesn’t fight at all; she hardly ever raises her voice. David has never known someone so truly kind. She lives in Jakarta, and left her job as a nanny about a year ago. David learned quickly that she married her childhood sweetheart. Budi, Endah’s husband, left their home years ago and went to America to work, sending every penny he could back home. The wrote letters, and talked on the phone as often as they could, but they were separated for over ten years. In a lucky break, he won a decent amount in the lottery, an amount David wouldn’t have appreciated before he met Endah. American money, apparently, goes quite a long way in Indonesia. When Budi came home, he was a very rich man, and was able to ask for Endah’s hand, and give her a wonderful life. Now, Endah lives comfortably, with a man she barely knows anymore and nothing to keep her occupied. She feels as lonely and trapped as David does, which is why they find themselves together. 

David sort of knows why he gets matched with Kostas. Aside from the fact that he might be the most stupidly handsome man to have ever lived, with long, caramel hair, sunkissed skin covering a toned and often shirtless body, and piercing green eyes, he’s also one of the closest reminders to David’s old life. Kostas isn’t definitely living a life of luxury in Mithymna; the humble living Kostas resides in is somewhere between David’s new town, and Angelina’s old one. All the same, life on a Greek island is far more beautiful than anything Schitt’s Creek has to offer. Kostas is a fisherman, who wakes before sunrise and is out on the water when the sky starts to break. Rain or shine, Kostas is on the water everyday. It’s so beautiful, David can’t help but marvel at the beautiful sight of the Aegean. As if his appeal weren’t enough, he’s also a marvelous chef with dreams of owning a restaurant. Kostas sneers at the menu at Cafe Tropical as much as David does. 

Every so often, David finds himself in Melbourne, at the bar Mia works at, or in Farha’s lush apartment in Kolkata, or meandering the open market in Marrakech where Youssef sells spices everyday. Once or twice, he’s sat with Linnea in the lab where she works, asking questions about her cluster, and the other clusters she’s had before his own. But, for every two or three visits with them, David finds himself in Edmonton, with Patrick. His mind always falls back to Patrick, and, apparently, he’s not alone. Of everyone in his cluster, David is closest with Patrick. 

Patrick has a lot of extracurricular activities in his life. On top of his hockey team, that has games every Saturday and practice twice a week, Patrick is in a local baseball league, on a trivia team, and, apparently, just closed a show in his local community theatre. He goes to the gym and has a very active social life. David can’t help but be impressed by everything Patrick does, especially when he watches it all from his motel room, doing nothing otherwise. 

Most days, David and Patrick have lunch together. Even if they’re not talking, for obvious reasons, they enjoy each other’s company. David likes the way Patrick keeps busy. It makes him feel like he’s busy, too, which is nice in this drab wasteland. The more he gets to know Patrick, though, the less he realizes he knows him. Every few visits, David learns something about Patrick that is very surprising. 

Today’s surprise comes in the form of a red-headed woman, who stops by the bank to drop off lunch for Patrick. Patrick is surprised by her visit, having been on his way out of the office to pick up a sandwich when she arrived. What surprises David is when she goes in for a kiss, and Patrick tilts his head, just a little. David feels her lips on the corner of Patrick’s mouth, instead of their intended target. She stiffens, smiling up at Patrick tightly, and then leaves, without even offering to stay. Patrick hovers by the door, glancing at David, then turns to go back to his office. 

David’s brows raise as he moves with Patrick to his office. From the chair in front of Patrick’s desk, David watches Patrick shut the door behind him and walk to sit behind his desk, setting his lunch atop it. 

“So, who’s the cutie?” David asks, conversationally, though he knows that Patrick can feel his guts twisting just as clearly as he can feel Patrick’s shame. 

“Rachel,” Patrick croaks, not meeting David’s eyes. “She-she’s my fiancée.”

David’s brows raise in surprise, his eyes blinking rapidly. He’d known about Endah’s husband and Mia’s girlfriend almost immediately. He learned about Youssef’s late wife recently, but, admittedly, they don’t spend a lot of time together. This is the first that David is hearing of Patrick’s fiancée. David has shared appreciative looks with Patrick, he’s felt his emotions. Patrick having a pretty young woman as a fiancée blindsights David. “Your fiancée,” he repeats, feeling the word in his own mouth. “Hm.”

“What?” Patrick prods, begrudgingly. He opens the bag Rachel gave him and pulls the contents out. It’s a very thoughtful lunch, with all of Patrick’s favorites.

“Nothing,” David shrugs. “I just didn’t know you had a fiancée. I mean, it’s been a few weeks, I thought that would’ve come up by now. But, apparently, I know nothing.”

Patrick sighs, sagging softly. “No, you know everything,” he mumbles. He looks up through his lashes at David, then tilts his whole head up to look at him. “It probably says a lot that you don’t know about her.”

David’s brow furrows, his head shaking. “What is that supposed to mean?” He asks, almost accusatorially. He knows what that means. He knows how he feels for Patrick, he can’t escape from the fluttering he feels every time they lock eyes from across the country. He knows that only half of it stems from him, and the other half is from Patrick. He knows how Patrick feels, because he can feel it, too.

“You know what it means,” Patrick grumbles, looking away. 

David chews on the inside of his lip. If he stood up and walked away, he’d just walk right back into this office. He can’t escape this, not even a distraction from his family could pull him from Patrick’s office. “I’m not gonna tell you what to do with your life,” he tells Patrick, though he certainly has a lot of opinions. Patrick gives him an unimpressed look, but starts in on his sandwich, pulling it from its wrap. “Is that why you’re on so many teams?” Patrick’s eyes snap to David’s, shaken by the idea of him being found out. “Because you don’t want to spend your time with her?”

Patrick hesitates, then nods, looking down to his food, but not taking any bites yet. David feels a roll of nausea inside Patrick. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, shamefully. 

“For what?” David asks. Having a fiancée isn’t exactly an offense. It’s not only the least surprising surprise thus far, but it has also never stopped David before. 

“For lying to you,” Patrick whispers.

David rolls his eyes at him. “You didn’t lie to me,” he accepts. Patrick gives him an annoyed, pointed look. “You might not have told me the whole truth, but it’s not like I asked if you had a fiancée and you told me ‘no’. You don’t exactly have any obligations to me.”

Patrick looks at him, and doesn’t have to tell David that that’s not true. The unspoken words linger in the air around them. In the short, few weeks since they’ve been connected, they’ve bonded deeply, more deeply than most people could fathom. Maybe there’s nothing concrete between them, maybe they’ve never even brushed hands, nonetheless lips, but that makes this feeling no less substantial. 

Patrick glances at his coworkers through the glass windows of his office, then looks back to David. “Things aren’t working with us,” he explains, softly. “They haven’t been for a while. We’ve been together, on and off, since high school, we keep falling back into it because it’s easy.”

David shakes his head and waves a hand. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” He says, instinctually, as he’s heard in every romcom he’s ever watched. 

“I-I think I do,” Patrick argues, a wet emotion in his pretty eyes. “You deserve the truth.” David purses his lips and doesn’t argue further, because he very much would like to know about this fiancée of Patrick’s. “I love her. But not how I should. She’s my best friend. The only person who knows me better is-.” David doesn’t need him to say it; ‘you’ echoes silently around them. He has to look away from the honesty in Patrick’s eyes. “When I proposed, we were broken up. Everyone told me I was crazy for letting her go, that she was perfect for me. My parents, all my friends, even my priest said so. I thought, if I asked her to marry me, then all of our problems would go away. But they didn’t. And they’re not getting better. And now I-. Well. I know my heart isn’t in it. This whole cluster has been-. Very enlightening.”

David knows truths about Patrick that he, himself, likely doesn’t know. He knows Patrick’s personal preferences, the qualities in a person that he lingers on. It’s not surprising that Patrick is engaged, it would be insane if no one had ever tried to lock that down. No, the surprising part is that his fiancée is a woman. Within their cluster, most of them are bisexual, or pansexual, in David’s specified case. Based solely on what David has observed, Patrick isn’t bi. And maybe Patrick doesn’t know that yet, so it isn’t David’s place to comment on it. Instead, David draws his lips between his teeth and gives a tight nod. 

“I don’t know how to end things with her,” Patrick sighs, looking down at the lunch Rachel brought to him. “Obviously, I’m not so good at breaking up with her if she’s my fiancée.”

“What do you want?” David asks, quietly. 

Patrick worries his lip between his teeth and shakes his head. “I don’t know,” he says. “I’ve never been on my own for long enough to think about it. I’ve never even asked myself that.”

One corner of David’s mouth twists upwards, just barely. “Well, I just asked you,” he says, as light as he can possibly manage, “and that’s probably close enough to you asking yourself, so you can go ahead and call that an invitation. But-. You know, no pressure to figure anything out now. There’s no time limit on-. Anything.”

Patrick stares at David for a long moment. David feels what he feels, he wants what Patrick wants. He leans forward and reaches a hand over the desk, grasping Patrick’s wrist gently. As soon as they touch, Patrick lets out a soft sigh, relaxing into the chair. He knows he’s not alone. They both know they’ll never be alone. 

“Thank you, David,” Patrick whispers, staring into David’s eyes in a way no one ever has before. 

David furrows his brows, his head shaking slightly. “For what?” He asks, quietly. 

Patrick looks surprised, and David can feel his incredulousness. “For everything,” he sighs, and there’s so much emotion packed into such a short phrase. 

David doesn’t have words. He stares at Patrick, open-mouthed. The lines between their worlds blur for a moment, and they’re in the bank and the motel at the same time. Where David has leaned over the desk to grasp at Patrick’s arm, Patrick is sitting next to David on his bed, their thighs pressing together. His eyes dart down to David’s lips, slowly leaning forward. David has never been nervous to be kissed, which makes him wonder if the nervousness is coming from Patrick. 

Just as David is leaning the rest of the way in to brush his lips against Patrick’s, the adjoining door swings open and his mother saunters in. David and Patrick jump apart and stare at her. 

“Honestly, David, are you still not ready to go?” Moira asks, clipped with annoyance, like David hadn’t been waiting for the last thirty minutes to go. She narrows her eyes at him, quickly catching onto his strange behavior. “I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?”

David glances at Patrick and clears his throat. He stands quickly, shaking himself out as subtly as he can. “Interrupting?” He stammers, trying to play everything off. “Wha-what would you be interrupting? Exactly? There’s no one here.”

Moira’s chin tilts upwards, her pale blue eyes glancing him over. “Isn’t there?” She questions, her head tilting to the side. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” David asks, folding his arms over his chest and definitely not looking at Patrick, who is eating his sandwich on David’s bed. 

“My mother had a very rare gift bestowed upon her,” she announces. “She told me she never needed to leave our little town, because she had eyes all over the world. I, myself, was never blessed with such a miracle, and had to find my own way to see the world. I always wondered if one of you two would inherit the gift.”

David’s jaw drops at her admission. He remembers his grandmother talking to no one very clearly, and wrote it off as ‘Crazy Old Grandma’ at a young age. He’d never considered the idea that someone might have actually been there, and that he just couldn’t see them. “She was-?”

“One of eight, I believe, is that correct?” She asks. David doesn’t answer, and she doesn’t seem to expect one. “I’m assuming your birth was a recent event?”

David doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know what to say. He’s frozen. He’s treading open water. Fortunately, the event in question has provided him with a lifeboat. 

“It might be nice,” Patrick says, “to have someone know about us.”

“I thought it was supposed to be a secret?” Angelina says, stepping in from the corner of David’s eye. She looks unimpressed as she folds her arms over her chest, mirroring David. “That’s what the internet says.”

“She’s his mother,” Kostas reasons, wiping his hands on the towel slung over his shoulder. 

Farha steps out from behind Kostas, braiding her long hair up as she readies herself for bed. She stands beside Angelina, and David watches her soften in Farha’s presence. “Would she tell others?” She asks David, but looking at Moira. 

“She has the biggest mouth I’ve ever known,” David groans, rolling his eyes. 

Moira’s mouth opens in indignant disbelief. “I resent that!” She gasps. 

David’s brows raise, his eyes blinking rapidly. “You asked me for my input on my own surprise party when I was seven,” he recalls, “thank god, because having a surprise party is mortifying.” He shutters at the thought of having to attend a party he knows nothing about beforehand. 

“How was I to know your tastes at the time, David?” She cries, frustration seeping through. “You hardly had any compatriots to provide Adelina with an appropriate theme!”

A weird shame bubbles up in him. The admission of his lifelong solitude, in front of his cluster, makes him feel uneasy, and very exposed. He doesn’t know why, he’s been far more exposed than this in the weeks they’ve spent adjusting to life in each other’s heads. He’s walked in on, and been walked in on, arguments, and showers, and more than one masturbation session. Of all of new sensations, this one feels especially raw. 

All at once, he’s soothed; his one is no match for their seven, all telling him that he isn’t alone anymore. They are a reassuring hand on the shoulder at all times. No judgement lingers beneath them, the way it had with everyone else he’s ever known. 

“It started the day we came here,” he sighs. “When all the agents were at the house.” 

A flurry of emotions flit across his mother’s face, a strange collection David was sure he’d never seen on anyone else before. “We can discuss this later,” she says. “If we dally any longer, we’ll miss our reservation at the local noshery.”

David rolls his eyes. “We definitely don’t have, or need, a reservation,” he huffs, but leads the way out the door to walk down the one long street that runs through the town. 

-

In a mildly disturbing turn of events, Farha and Alexis know each other. In her many, many globetrotting adventures before they got marooned in this town, Alexis found herself in Kolkata, in the company of men that are exactly her type: Vogue-gorgeous, stupid, and dangerous. The one she spent the most time with was Debesh Majumdar. Debesh is known for one thing: being the son of Sashwat Majumdar, a very prominent crime lord, unspoken leader of the city, and, coincidentally, Farha’s uncle. The thing between Alexis and Debesh didn’t last long, because none of Alexis’ relationships are terribly long. 

Since their connection began, David has found himself absolutely fascinated by Farha’s life. Sashwat has no real love for his son, who is vain, but, otherwise, very flat. All of his love is reserved for Farha. Sashwat absolutely adores his precious niece, the only daughter of his favorite brother. When she was born, he had just taken his place at the top, and her birth felt like a blessing. He showered her with affection, and she stuck to him like glue. Farha was the daughter Sashwat never had, but always wished he could spoil. As Farha’s beauty, intelligence, and strength blossomed, so did Sashwat’s empire. 

The dark side of her beloved uncle’s life was never hidden from Farha. She knew, from a very young age, that he was feared in the city, that their people bowed their head like he was some dark king. Eventually, the city knew her, too, because she was always at his side. At this point, she’s been groomed and primed to take over the empire, when it’s time for Sashwat to retire. Needless to say, Shashwat has no interest in passing his legacy to his hapless, senseless son. Farha, on the other hand, is a perfect successor, even if she’s not sure that she wants it. 

Being the favorite niece of a crime lord forced Farha to learn to protect herself, and to keep all of her relationships very surface. David can relate to this; he had to learn these lessons, too, though not as harshly as she did. Most of her friends are people she doesn’t really like, girls she’s known her whole life who only like her for her status. David can relate to that, too. But with the downfalls come the perks. Farha wants for nothing, something David sorely misses. She lives in a gorgeous penthouse apartment in the nicest neighborhood in her city. She’s invited to amazing events. She does what she pleases with no one to get in her way. 

Was David initially prepared for her? No. But, he adores Farha, even more than he expected to. Even if she didn’t have this lush life, David would still find himself sprawled out on her couch while she waters her plants. Fortunately, Farha’s couch is extremely comfortable. Her phone chimes from her coffee table, and she glances over her shoulder at him. 

“Who is it?” She asks, going back to her jasmine plant. 

David pulls himself up and looks down at her phone, careful not to grab it. “Debjani wants to know if you want to go with her to Club Boudoir tonight,” he reads, just as her phone goes dim. It takes him a moment to realize he just read a text in Bengali without thinking about it. It hadn’t occurred to David that he can read Bengali now, and Greek, and Spanish, and all the other languages his cluster has provided for him. He shakes the thought off and regards Farha with an expectant look. 

“What?” She grunts, like she’s annoyed with him. 

“Sounds like fun, sort of,” he draws out. “Goin’ out with the girls.” His shoulders shimmy in her direction. 

“So I can get them behind velvet ropes and then pay for everything,” she sneers, and, yeah, David really relates to that. His revelation about his friends not really being his friends was not had alone. When he realized that they’d dropped him because he was no longer convenient, Farha knew that her friends would do the same, should the situation ever arise. 

“Mm,” he mumbles, understandingly, nestling himself back into her wonderful couch. 

She puts down her watering can and glares at him. “What?” She repeats, more forcefully than the last time. 

“Nothing!” David says, innocently. “Just noticing that you’ve been having a lot of nights in, lately.”

“Who are you, the party police?” She demands. “I can stay in if I want to.”

“Mhmm, yeah, of course,” he nods in agreement, breezily. “That has nothing to do with a certain eleven-hour time difference with a certain Colombian beauty, would it?” He’s caught enough glimpses and shared enough emotions with both Farha and Angelina to know that they felt very strongly for each other. 

Farha doesn’t like getting called out like this. Her glare towards David hardens in disbelief. “I know that you’re not bringing that up right now,” she condemns him, shaking her head, “I know you’re not.”

And, to be fair, she has a point. He’s also entangled with one of their cluster, only his situation is a lot more convoluted. Angelica and Farha are simple, they bring a softness to each other that they both desperately need. David and Patrick are complicated, because they’re much closer together, geographically speaking, and because of Rachel. David bows his head in concession. 

“You want to go clubbing first thing in the morning?” She asks with an unimpressed look. 

He waves his arms around the motel room. “Do I look like I have anything better to do?” He asks her, his voice just as unimpressed as hers. 

Farha takes in the motel, her mouth curling downward. “It’s quite drab,” she says, her neat eyebrow quirking. “If I were you, I’d want an escape.”

“Exactly,” David groans. “Please, for the sake of my sanity, so, by extension, your sanity, please go out clubbing with your shallow friends, knowing that I will be there, having fun on your behalf, and I’ll never abandon you.” 

Farha rolls her eyes at his theatrics. “Fine,” she concedes. 

“You’re the best head-mate I could possibly ask for,” he gushes at her, just as Alexis swings into their motel room.

Alexis stops when she hears David talking, her face tightening. “Since when do you speak Bengali?” She asks, flicking her hair over her shoulder and stomping further into the room. 

David wasn’t aware that he and Farha were both speaking Bengali. He had no idea he could speak Bengali, though, being able to read the text message Farha had gotten makes a lot more sense. 

“How’s Ted?” David avoids her question, asking a question to which he cares very little about the answer. “I thought you were staying at his place for the foreseeable future.”

Alexis huffs and drops onto her bed, crossing her legs. “He had an emergency surgery on someone’s cat or something,” she says, diving into her phone. 

Farha stares at Alexis, a puzzled look on her face. “How do I know her?” She wonders, tapping her chin. David sends her a look, as if to say that the answer is obvious, she’s his sister. She narrowed her eyes right back, as if to say, ‘Duh, you stupid bitch’. 

David sighs and looks at Alexis. “I’m gonna regret asking you this, but have you ever been to Kolkata?” He asks.

At first, Alexis is surprised by the question, but her face quickly takes on the dreamy look she gets when she thinks of the hearts of handsome men she’s broken. “Mm, yeah,” she sighs. “I was there for two months, and spent most of my time with this super hot guy, who ended up being, like, a Mafia Lord’s son, or something.”

David looks at Farha for their conjoined moment of realization. “Debesh?” They ask at the same time, though Shashwat only has the one son. 

Alexis’ eyes widen. “Um, how do you know that?” She says, clearly shaken by his knowledge of something they’ve never talked about. 

Farha and David glance at each other again, and she shrugs, allowing him to say what he wants to his sister. David’s eyes fix to Alexis, and he hesitates. “I know his cousin,” he says. “Farha.”

Alexis’ jaw drops. “Wh-? How?” She stammers. “When were you in India?”

David shakes his head. “I’ve never been,” he says, then shrugs. “Sort of. I mean. I’m-. I’m sort of, uh, there-. Now? It’s so weird, and complicated, and you already think I’m crazy, and this is only going to worsen your perception of that.”

Alexis is definitely looking at him like he’s lost his mind. It’s sort of ironic, considering this whole situation has really shown him that he’s finding his mind. “What are you talking about?” She gawks at him, impatiently. 

“I’m-, well, I’m part of this-. Collective consciousness, I guess you could call it,” he tries to explain. “I’m connected to real, actual people, all around the world. Farha is one of them.”

Alexis stares at him for a minute. “You mean like Grandma?” She asks. 

David honestly can’t believe what he’s hearing. “What?” He hisses.

“She was-, god, what was it called? A sensie?”

“Sensate,” David corrects.

Alexis claps her hands, then points at David. “That’s it,” she agrees, enthusiastically. “A sensate. You’re, like, psychically linked to a bunch of people around the world. Grandma said that one of us would be like her, probably. Kind of a huge bummer that it’s you, now, and not me, a year ago.”

David scowls at her. “How does everyone know this about Grandma except me?” He demands.

Farha rolls her eyes at him, but goes back to watering her houseplants. However, various other members of their cluster hover around David’s periphery, waiting to listen in, in case David starts talking too much shit about them. David doesn’t need to turn and look to know that Patrick stands steady behind him, he always does. Kostas is the only one who makes his presence abundantly known. He takes a seat down beside Alexis on her bed, with Alexis none the wiser. His eyes rake over her, and David glares at him. “Stop it,” he hisses. 

“Stop what?” Alexis glares back at him, even though his glare isn’t directed at her.

“Not you,” David sneers. He points at Kostas, even though he knows Alexis can’t see him. “Him. The leery fisherman.”

“Don’t make me sound like some disgusting pervert,” Kostas complains, pulling his eyes from Alexis to frown at David. “Anyone with eyes can see she is a rare beauty. I would be an idiot to not try and appreciate it up close.” He turns his head back to Alexis, allowing them to wander over her. 

“Stop,” David demands through his teeth. Kostas gives him a mischievous look, but darts away. David shuts his eyes and tilts his head back, taking in a deep breath. “I’m sorry. This is all still settling, we’re trying to get used to it.” He opens his eyes looks at her, quickly debating relaying the compliment. In the back of David’s mind, Kostas pushes for him to do so. “Kostas thinks you’re pretty.”

Alexis’ face splits into a radiant beam at the compliment, like she knows David toned it down, and could hear Kostas’ words through David. “Kostas, huh?” She wonders, toying with the ends of her hair. “Where is he?”

“Mithymna,” David says. He’s met with a blank stare. “Lesvos.”

“In Greece?” She asks, her head tilting to the side. 

David rolls his eyes. “It’s a Greek island, yeah,” he concedes. 

“You mean to tell me that you can escape from this place and be in a Greek island?” She realizes. “That is so not even close to fair. I have to just, like, be here, all the time, and you get to jet off to Greece and India and-. Wherever else.”

David shrugs, because he really had no say in this matter at all. “Maybe you’ll be a sensate, too,” he says. He takes a moment to think about how awful being connected to his sister, with whom he shares a motel room, would be, and frowns. “Hopefully not. I’ll never look you in the eye, if you are.”

“Wha-? Why?” Alexis stammers, showing a surprising amount of interest in David’s psychic weirdness.

David takes a deep breath. “Connections outside your cluster are formed through eye contact,” he explains. 

“What’s a cluster?” Alexis asks, her nose wrinkling in confusion. 

To say that David is annoyed that she can’t keep up is a bit of an understatement. “They’re my people, can you please try and keep up?” He demands. “Not even Mom was this slow on the uptake.”

“Mom knows?!” Alexis demands. “She can’t keep anything to herself!”

“You should know by now that I can hear you!” Their mother calls through the wall, but both David and Alexis ignore her. 

“Obviously, she can keep at least one thing to herself,” David says with a roll of his eyes. “You can’t tell anyone about this.” It’s Alexis’ turn to roll her eyes. “Alexis! I’m serious. Not a word. Not to Ted, not to Twyla, not to Mutt at community service. No one can know about this.”

“Don’t be so crazy and panicky, David,” she accuses him, her eyes sharpening. 

“You’re the one who told Star Magazine about my rhinoplasty!” He fires back. 

“Um, it’s not like it was a secret,” she sneers, “it was pretty obvious that you got a nose job.”

“Oh my god!” David yells.

Angelina stands close to him, looking closely at his nose. “It looks good,” she decides, with a nod. 

David looks at her, his jaw tight. “Thank you,” he grits. Over her shoulder, in the corner of David’s eye, Patrick’s eyes take over him, an amused grin on his face. David’s eyes narrow, briefly, at Patrick, then he turns to look back at Alexis. “You can’t say a word. Not a word. I’ll rip all of your rompers and smash my hair straightener so you can never use it again.”

“Fine!” Alexis cries. “I won’t say anything.” When David continues to glare at her, she raises her eyebrows and looks away. “I won’t, David! I promise.” 

It’s enough for David to soften. His muscles relax and he eases himself back into the shitty mattress. A part of him worries that the whole town will know in two weeks, between his sister and mother. Another part is learning how to trust. If he can start to trust strangers, all around the world, then he supposes he can trust his own family.

“So, how is Debesh these days?” Alexis asks, casually. 

David turns his eyes to Farha, who shrugs at David, not at all caring what he says about her cousin. He sighs, then turns back to his sister. “Still hot, stupid and dangerous,” he huffs.

“Is he still single?” Alexis twirls her hair around her fingers, that dreamy look taking up residence in her eyes again.

“You literally have a boyfriend,” David complains, then groans, and roughly snatches his headphones off of their nightstand. “Everyone needs to shut up,” he hisses softly, shoving the headphones over his ears and sinking into the mattress. 

-

David tries his best to mind his business, he really does. He hates it when his cluster pops up at times he would rather not be witnessed, so he makes it a point to not linger in the outskirts of a room he hasn’t been invited to. Most of the time, it works for him. He can ignore arguments, or questionable decisions, or manual labor with some ease. 

Though he tries his hardest to not eavesdrop on his usually respectful cluster, there’s one particular connection David has that is almost impossible to ignore. For the most part, David likes to give in, and not ignore Patrick. He likes to see what Patrick does, and he likes the amused smiles Patrick gives him when he visits. He feels safer, when Patrick is there. At almost all times, he can stretch out his fingers and brush them against Patrick’s calloused ones. The fluttering feeling he gets around Patrick echoes in Patrick’s own, which makes the feeling twice as strong for them. 

As David arranges some blouses on the rack at the Blouse Barn, he feels his stomach twist with guilt and shame. A lump forms in his throat, turning his head just as Patrick turns his own, locking eyes. At the sound of the door to Patrick and Rachel’s apartment opening, David finds himself already inside, standing in their bedroom, beside their bed. Patrick sits on the edge, his palms sweating, his blunt nails carving into the meat of his palms.

“Hey!” Rachel calls, and the door closes. David winces at the sound. 

“Oh, fuck,” he whispers, his jaw dangling as he stares at Patrick. He should’ve known. They’ve been dancing around each other all day. David could feel an uncommon anxiety in Patrick, which had only made David feel weird all day. “Now?” Patrick nods, standing up from the bed. “I shouldn’t be here for this. That’s-. No. I should-.”

“Don’t go,” Patrick whispers, taking two long strides until he’s standing a bare inch from David. His hands reach up and grasp David’s shoulders firmly. “Please don’t go.” 

David can feel courage swelling inside him, blossoming deep in Patrick’s chest. The realization hits him like a tidal wave; David’s very presence makes Patrick stronger, makes him braver. Hope glitters in Patrick’s soft eyes, swimming alongside fear and sweet vulnerability. David is blindsided by the expression. He reaches up with one hand to cup Patrick’s cheek and leans in to kiss him. He feels Patrick gasp as he moves to meet David. It’s soft, and warm, like coming home to a house smelling like cookies. Patrick’s lips feel perfect. David has kissed a thousand pairs leading up to this, and all of those kisses combined don’t hold a flame to this one.

It only lasts a bare moment, before they’re pulling back from their stolen kiss. They linger by each other’s lips, sharing a few breaths. “I’m not going anywhere,” David promises softly. 

Patrick smiles, and slowly lets go. He steps out of the bedroom and into the living room to meet Rachel. Back in the Blouse Barn, David tucks his lips between his teeth and continues to arrange the racks. He continues his task from Patrick’s living room, just in the corner of Patrick’s eye. 

“Hey,” Patrick sighs. “Uh, can we talk?”

Rachel stiffens, turning to look at Patrick, her eyes tight. “Oh my god,” she says, chuckling humorlessly at herself. “It’s happening again.”

Patrick shuts his eyes, his guilt twisting up in his stomach again. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, opening his eyes to look down at his feet. David wants to comfort him, but offers space, instead. 

“You’re sorry?” Rachel repeats, somehow incredulous and resigned. “For what? Breaking up with me? For proposing to me? For asking me out at all? Why even bother with me if you’re just going to break up with me every other year?”

The guilt twists even harder, and Patrick’s shame leeches in. With a hard swallow, David pushes it away, he silently tells Patrick he has nothing to be ashamed of. It eases something in Patrick, like a steady hand on his shoulder. 

“It’s not about you, it’s about me,” Patrick cuts in, before Rachel can really start yelling. He looks up at her to see her staring at him, wide-eyed. “We’ve been together our whole adult lives. I’ve never given myself a chance to even ask what I want out of life. I’ve never been on my own. I’ve just been listening to what other people have been telling me, my entire life.” He pauses, staring at her, but she doesn’t say anything. “We both know that this isn’t working. It hasn’t been for a long time. I think we both know that me proposing was trying to force something that isn’t right.”

“You don’t want to marry me?” Rachel whispers, her face falling.

“Do you want to marry me?” Patrick asks, his voice creaking.

“I said ‘yes’, didn’t I?” She returns, folding her arms over her chest. 

“You want to spend your life with someone who is always going to keep you at an arm’s length?” He keeps going. “Someone who doesn’t love you the way you should be loved?”

Rachel droops, sucking in a gasp. “You don’t love me?” She whimpers, and David watches as her heart breaks. 

“Not enough to marry you,” Patrick whispers. “Not the way you deserve.” Rachel’s face only crumples further with his truth. Patrick’s heart breaks, too, because he hates hurting her. He hates that their life has been this broken record of hurt. “Rachel, you deserve someone who never wants to miss a moment of your life. You deserve someone you can reach out to, someone who will reach out back.”

“Is there someone else?” Rachel asks, her voice quivering. “Another woman?” 

Patrick closes his eyes and clenches his teeth. “Rach,” he sighs. 

“There is!” She gasps, scandalized. “Who is she, Patrick?” Patrick purses his lips, his body starts to tremble. He sits in the nearest chair and grips his knees. “Oh, my god, why are you sitting? Is it someone I know? Are you sleeping with one of my friends?!”

“I’m not sleeping with anyone else!” Patrick yells, to cut her off, finally looking her in the face. He takes a deep breath. The cluster takes David’s hand, and he places it on Patrick’s shoulder, holding him steady. “I’m gay.” 

Rachel blinks, and blinks again, her mind processing what he’s said. “What?” She squeaks. 

Patrick can’t bear to look at her, to watch as he breaks the life they’ve made. David squeezes his shoulder, to remind him that he doesn’t bear this weight alone. “I’m gay, Rachel,” he repeats, letting out a shaking breath. “I could never figure out why it never worked and then-. One day, I-. It clicked. There’s nothing you or I could do to make it work.”

Rachel can’t find words. Her eyes fall away and onto the floor, trying to wrap her mind around the fact that her fiancé has just come out to her. David feels for her, he really does, but all he wants to do is wrap his arms around Patrick, and make sure he knows he’s okay. Just because David can’t physically feel Rachel’s pain doesn’t mean he isn’t aware of it. She deserves a lot better than this, of that David is certain. 

“I’m going to stay at my parents’,” Patrick explains, quietly. “Figure out what comes next.”

“Is this it?” Rachel’s asks, her timid voice shaking. 

Patrick takes in a deep breath, exhaling as he nods. “Yeah,” he whispers. Fifteen years of his life, and it’s all come apart with two little words. Patrick had expected to feel worse, to feel that cavern inside him get wider and deeper. He feels free, instead. He feels a weight gone, lifted clear off of his shoulders. So much of himself that he was holding back, so much he hid away behind a locked gate, now comes flooding forth. Rationally, he knows he won’t go through a huge, dramatic change and become an entirely new person, but, either way, Patrick is looking forward to meeting the new version of himself. He’s looking forward to showing his cluster. “I’m sorry,” he whispers again, because, truly, he is sorry he’s hurt her. 

Rachel sniffles and straightens her shoulders. “You don’t have to apologize,” she says, showing strength that Patrick knows she’s faking. “If-, if you’re gay, then there’s nothing either of us can do. It’s nobody’s fault. There’s nothing wrong with you, or with me. We just-. Can’t be together. Because you’ve never really been attracted to me.” Her eyes fall and squeeze shut, like she can block out an invisible pain by closing herself off. Despite his weightlessness, Patrick still feels her hurt. 

“It’s not like that, Rachel,” he says, standing quickly and reaching for her. He stops short, not wanting to hurt her even more than he already is. “A part of me, a big part, will always love you. If there were a girl out there for me, she’d be you. And you’re going to make someone very, very happy. I’m sorry that it can’t be me.”

Rachel purses her lips, then crosses the room to meet him, she wraps her arms around him, her cheek pressing against his collarbone in a heartachingly familiar way. All Patrick can do is hug her back, his strong arms winding around her, comforting her the way he has a million times before. “I never thought it’d end like this,” she mumbles into his shirt, then pulls away and takes a step back. “I won’t-. Tell anyone. About why-.”

“Thanks,” Patrick cuts in, a gentle hand on her shoulder and an apologetic smile in his eyes. He can’t express how much this all means. “I’ve never said it-. Out loud. You’re the first person I’ve told.”

Rachel chuckles humorlessly, her head hanging. “I guess I still get a few of your firsts,” she jokes, as light as she can. Patrick can’t help but love her for that. He smiles at her, then drops his hand away. 

“I guess I’m gonna grab my stuff and-, go,” Patrick stammers, facing his future for the first time. Though the steps to be taken won’t have Rachel’s beside them, Patrick knows he’s not walking alone. He feels his cluster holding him steady, holding him upright. Rachel nods in agreement and inches away, giving him a more appropriate space. 

Patrick is quick about packing up what he needs. He grabs his work clothes and roughly shoves them in a bag; the treatment of said professional-wear makes David cringe, but he holds back the color commentary. The entire cluster loiters around him, fading in and out of the background. David can feel Patrick’s thankfulness for their connection as clear as day. 

When Patrick leaves the apartment, ignoring the sad, longing look on Rachel’s face, the cluster goes too. He passes by the members of his cluster standing in his neighbor’s doorways, with David keeping pace at his side through the hall. He shoves his bag into the trunk of his car, moving quickly to put physical distance between himself and the mess he’s made. As he drives towards the house his parents have lived in his whole life, Patrick can see a rotating array of his cluster in the rear view mirror, but David sits, very consistently, in the passenger seat. 

For the remainder of the evening, David and Patrick are in each other’s space. Patrick waits with David, after his shift, for Stevie to pick him up. David sits with Patrick as he explains the breakup to his parents. They eat dinner at the same time, and they go to bed at the same time. David lays beside Patrick in his childhood bed, and they talk until they fall asleep together in two beds, the tips of their fingers touching between them.

-

When Wendy tells David that she’s selling the name ‘Blouse Barn’ to some Australian company, both he and Patrick suspect something fishy. Patrick has never heard of a business giving someone money to change the name of their business before, and David doesn’t believe that anyone else would want the name ‘Blouse Barn’. 

“You should look into the company,” Patrick suggests. “Look into their profit margins last year. See if they’ve published anything about their North American expansion.”

So, David looks into the company. Mostly, he looks into the clothes they sell. It’s much nicer than Wendy’s selection, but that bar isn’t very high. When David is halfway through Blouse Barn Australia’s catalogue of women’s slacks, Patrick realizes no real research will be done on David’s end. With a soft sigh, he opens a new browser on his laptop and starts typing away. It’s not like anything else is happening at work today, there’s nothing pressing that needs doing. 

After just a few minutes of research, Patrick has a few answers. He turns to look at David. “The company made 97 million dollars last year,” he says, surprise lilting his voice. 

That amount makes David perk up. “Almost a hundred million?” He gawks, glancing back at the slacks. “For this?” He scoffs, sneering at the screen, then keeps scrolling, hoping to find something that’s worth that much, and finding nothing. Clothes like these making so much money must either be a cover, or a massive company. “How fucking big is this- operation?”

Patrick keeps scrolling on his computer, too. “It says they’ve got plans to open over sixty stores in North America over the next six months,” he reads. “Numbers like that translates to hundreds of stores in the next few years, if they know how to run their business. Based on what I can see, they know what they’re doing.”

David gives Patrick a disbelieving look over their computers. “Based solely on the name ‘Blouse Barn’, I’m gonna have to disagree with you,” David says, his voice dry and airy. 

Patrick smirks fondly at a David. “It’s a stupid name, I’ll give you that,” he agrees. “I don’t know exactly what constitutes a blouse, as opposed to just a regular shirt, but I know it’s probably something you don’t buy in a barn. But, ‘Starbucks’ is a stupid name for a coffee shop, so, you know, names don’t mean everything.”

David rolls his eyes. “You are so painfully Canadian,” he comments. “Have you ever even been to a Starbucks?”

“Horton’s is better,” Patrick shrugs. 

“That doesn’t answer my question, though,” David says, his nose wrinkling.

Patrick continues not answering when Alexis enters the motel room, glancing over David’s shoulder and asking him about minimum purchase amounts for free shipping. 

Later, in the meeting with the representative from Blouse Barn Australia, when Alexis isn’t at all helpful in securing the deal, Patrick uses David’s voice to spout off the details they know to make sure Wendy is taken care of in a way she deserves. The numbers David slides across the desk to the woman are written in Patrick’s neat scrawl. Neither of them are exactly sure how much Wendy got, and they definitely didn’t expect David to get such a big cut of it. 

Alexis suggests a trip. Excitement bubbles in David’s chest at the idea of having a few days of his old life back. Patrick’s steady, familiar hand on his shoulder brings him back to his reality, which, honestly, isn’t as bad as he thought it would be. Sure, he misses having anything he wants with the barest bat of his eyelashes, and, yeah, sharing a motel room with his messy sister makes him crazier than the voices in his head. But, now, he has something he never had before: a family. 

“Shouldn’t we be sa-,” Patrick starts to suggest to the Roses, but the words catch in David’s throat. Nothing of the sort had ever passed David’s lips. “Shouldn’t we try to sav-,” Patrick tries again, but the words stick inside. Patrick is nothing if not persistent. He clears David’s throat for him. “Save- this? Shouldn’t we be trying-? To save this?”

A moment of hesitation lingers at the table, but not even this outlandish little family can deny the practicality of Patrick Brewer. 

“We could get manicures,” Alexis suggests. While Patrick wouldn’t ever splurge on a manicure, himself, he doesn’t really see the harm in that. 

  
-

The night of the party in Mutt’s barn, Patrick arrives home at his parents’ house just as David is finishing up getting ready. He watches as David fiddles with his hair in the mirror, his eyes raking over David. Patrick can’t help himself, he lets out a low whistle, which makes David narrow his eyes at Patrick in the mirror. 

“What?” David says. 

Patrick shakes his head, smiling at David. “You look nice,” he explains. 

David rolls his eyes at the compliment. “Obviously,” he deflects, breathlessly, and with a slight shake of his head. 

Patrick knows the routine by now. He recognizes the cologne, and he can feel David’s familiar, fluttery nervousness he only gets when he’s going out. “You’re hoping to get laid,” Patrick comments. “At a barn party.”

David huffs, his eyes rolling again. “If you’re here to tease me about the lowering of my standards, Mia has already beaten you to the punch,” he sighs, frowning. 

“No judgement,” Patrick promises, his hands raised innocently. He can’t help the little jealousy that starts to simmer in the pit of his stomach. 

David feels it like it belongs to him, but he’s practiced enough by now to know it’s Patrick’s. “This distance thing-,” he stammers. “It’s fun. But, at the end of the day, you’re not really here, it’s just my hand. And I’m a living, breathing person. With needs.”

“You really don’t have to explain yourself,” Patrick cuts in, but David hardly hears him over the sound of his own voice. 

“Plus, you have given yourself no opportunities to explore your newfound sexuality, and I think you deserve it!” David keeps explaining. 

Patrick’s face tightens. “You want to hook up with someone-? For me?” He repeats, completely unimpressed with David’s thought process. 

David’s mouth snaps shut. “That’s a terrible way of putting it,” he defends himself, weakly. He folds his arms over his chest. “I just mean-.”

“I know what you mean,” Patrick interrupts. “I understand, I get it. It’s nice, sort of. But you don’t have to do this for me. You can just do it for yourself.” David tucks his lips between his teeth. “And, you’re right,” Patrick shrugs, “the distance is hard. And you don’t owe me an explanation. Have fun tonight, okay?” He’s smiling, but David can still feel a gurgling inside Patrick’s belly. 

Before David can say anything else, Alexis bursts through the bathroom and looks him up and down. “Is that what you’re wearing?” She asks, breathily, waving a limp hand over his form.

David glares at his sister. “Choke,” he demands, flippantly, checking over his reflection. 

“Is the cluster coming with?” Alexis asks, bumping David’s hip as she comes over to preen in the mirror beside him. 

David thinks this is an unendingly stupid question; the cluster is literally always with him. Every stupid question he doesn’t voice rings in their heads, every impulse he has is quelled by them. His obnoxious, beloved cluster is always there. “I’m sure they’ll make some kind of appearance at some point,” he sighs, though he wouldn’t blame them if they didn’t show. A party at a barn is so lame, David, himself, can’t believe he’s wearing a Givenchy for the occasion. He turns, but Patrick is gone, leaving David alone in the room with his sister. 

The feeling Patrick left him stays with David. He tries not to think about it for the entire walk over to the barn, and he continues to ignore it as he wanders around Mutt’s barn, not talking to the townies. When he hovers around what seems to be the bar, all he can seem to focus on is the gurgling feeling, so Mia steps in and mixes him something strong. Just as she’s about to plop an ice cube into the solo cup, a presence looms beside David. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a low voice says, and David and his cluster look up at the man. He’s handsome in the same way Mutt is: rugged and coarse. 

“Normally, I wouldn’t,” Mia says, using David’s voice, “but someone brought room temperature vodka.”

The handsome guy chuckles, his whole body facing David in a clear sign of attraction. David can help but like the attention. “No, I mean, Mutt made those ice cubes from well water,” he explains, “so they smell a little fishy.”

David gasps softly, looking down at the murky ice. “I wouldn’t want that melting in my drink,” he says. Mia scoops the ice out of the cup drops it back into the container from whence it came. “Thank you very much.” Without thinking, Mia continues mixing David a drink, sans ice cubes. While she pours the vodka, David holds the bottle steady, pouring in more than Mia would. He’s gonna need a nice buzz to get through this heinous barn party. 

“I’m Jake,” the handsome guy finally introduces himself.

David meets his eyes, almost surprised to still have his attention. While a glimmer of attraction ripples through the cluster that’s still awake, David still feels that guilty bubble in his guts. “David,” he responds, shortly. 

Jake smiles a little at David. “Nice to meet you handsome,” he says, his rough voice trying to send tingles down David’s spine. Unfortunately for Jake, David is just slightly too occupied with being guilty to be turned on. As hot as Jake is, and as good as his beard would feel against David’s face, all David can think about is Patrick.

Stevie walking into David’s eyeline feels like a blessing. “I’m- I’m just gonna-, go, uh,” David stammers, walking away to talk to his saving grace. Since he’s met her, Stevie has saved David in ways only his cluster has, and she probably has no idea. 

She looks stunning in a tight, black dress. David can’t help but let his eyes wander over her. He’s only ever seen her in flannel, this is a very nice change of pace, especially after he spent his morning ribbing her over her yearbook photo. “Wow! Look at you!” He comments as kindly as he can when he’s close enough.

She narrows his eyes at him in a clear show of distrust. “What is that supposed to mean?” She asks defensively, her little chin tilted up.

“No, I’ve just never seen you so dressed up before,” he tries to explain, his own way of saying she looks good. 

“Well, I do what I want,” she says, very definitively, shaking out her hair. “And, tonight, I’m wanting to meet someone.” David nods understandingly. “So. I have a certain high school reputation to live up to.”

David continues nodding, his amusement appearing on his face. “Uh-huh, yeah, good luck with that,” he supports her. “Speaking of sexual popularity, I’m pretty sure that, um, that guy by the bar is into me.” He casts his gaze to Jake, who, despite already talking to someone else, is still looking at David. 

“You mean Jake?” Stevie asks. 

“Yeah, Jake,” David confirms, turning back to look at Stevie. “Why, was he one of your high school conquests?”

“Actually no,” she says. “But I have a pretty stellar radar for being able to tell when a guy is into me.”

David’s heart twangs for her, because Jake is still staring, and Stevie must think that he’s staring at her. “Mhmm, well,” he says, glancing from Jake to Stevie, “having swam in both ponds, I can say I might be able to navigate those waters a little better than you.”

Stevie’s brows raise in surprise. “Uh-huh?” She questions, unimpressed. “Well, we’ll see.”

“Hmm,” David murmurs as they both turn to look at Jake, who is still looking in their direction. He takes a long sip of his drink.

Less than a half of a second later, Stevie is distracted by some townie David doesn’t recognize, and David loses interest. He tries to wander the party, looking for friends, only to find that he’s only got one friend, and that’s Stevie. It’d be a depressing thought if he were actually alone. 

“Let’s dance!” Angelina says, stepping out from over David’s shoulders. Her fists swing in time with her hips and shoulders to the song that David hasn’t been paying attention to. 

“No,” David says, soft and firm, pretending like he’s not saying anything. No one at this party cares if he’s talking to himself. He takes a long sip of the drink Mia mixed. 

Kostas and Endah appear just as quick and effortlessly as Angelina had, also dancing where no one can see them. “It’s fun, David,” Kostas beams at him. “Have you ever heard of ‘fun’ before?”

David rolls his eyes at Kostas. He expects Endah to support him in his endeavor to keep his dignity intact, but she’s dancing, too. “Keep drinking,” she teases him, lightly, which is unlike her. “That will make you dance with us.”

“Time zones are so weird,” Mia complains, but dances anyway, grabbing her girl in their flat in Melbourne and giving her a spin. Truthfully, their enthusiasm is almost catching. He almost wants to dance with them. He almost wants to let go and dance with no inhibitions. 

Instead, David walks away, even though they all follow him around the barn. He finds the food table, gravitating towards it naturally. At first sight, everything is disgusting-looking, but he’d skipped dinner, and he’s trying to learn not being so picky. The sight of the food reminds David of the weird guilty sadness he’s carried with him to the barn this evening. He dips a chip into some off-white goop in a bowl and tries it. It may look like weeks-old gruel, but it tastes like cheese, and that’s good enough for David. 

On his fourth chip, he feels a presence beside him. David looks up, expecting to see one of his cluster, but, instead, seeing Handsome Jake, yet again. “Hmm!” David exclaims, him mouth still full of cheese-goop. “I thought I was shame eating in private.”

Jake pulls a confused expression onto his face. “What’s shame eating?” He asks. 

David’s head whirls. He thinks it’s pretty self-explanatory. “I don’t think we have time for that tonight,” he sighs, then looks away. He looks for someone, anyone, to distract him, but, of course, neither Stevie nor his cluster finds themselves in David’s eyeline. 

“Are you looking for someone?” Jake asks, drawing David’s attention back to him. 

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, sorry,” David stammers. “I’m just-. I lost my friend, who should be around here somewhere, um, watching this, so.”

“Are you here with Stevie?” Jake asks, pulling her name right out of his rugged, withered pocket.

“I am, yeah,” David nods.

This seems to surprise Jake. “Okay,” he says. 

David realizes how that sounds. “Not here-, with her,” he explains. “We’re not together. I’m very much single, so.” He stops short, because it tastes like a lie tumbling from his lips. He looks down at his drink. 

“Do you wanna get some air?” Jake asks, leaning in, pointing a finger towards the door. 

“Yeah, mhmm, yes,” David nods. He wants his hands free. He looks down at his drink, and thinks about abandoning it, but Mia lifts the cup to his lips and downs the drink for him. There’s no courage to be found at the bottom of the cup, but David follows Jake out anyway. 

They walk around the property for a few minutes in silence. David steals glances at Jake as they walk, worrying his lips between his teeth. For the first time, David doesn’t know what to say. Between that and the feeling of Patrick, lingering at the back of his mind, David feels a little weird about taking this walk with Jake.

“So, Jake,” David cuts through the silence once they round the back of the barn, “are you a red wine drinker? Or a white wine drinker?”

“I’m more of a beer guy,” Jake explains, unhelpfully. He moves a little closer to David, backing him toward the barn wall. 

“Right,” David sighs, not noticing the way he’s edged towards the wall. 

“Yeah.”

“That doesn’t help me much,” David mumbles, and finally looks over to see how closely Jake is standing. His back finds the siding of the barn, and he can feel Jake’s warmth radiating off of him. 

“I’ve gotta get going pretty soon,” Jake explains, his voice low and graveled. “I’ve gotta get to the shop pretty early tomorrow, so.”

“Oh, you work retail as well?” David sighs, taking in Jake’s chiseled features so closely in the low lighting. David doesn’t recognize himself. He of six months ago would convince Jake not to leave, and would never ask about his workplace. 

Jake chuckles. “No, no,” he grins, leaning in a little closer. “The wood shop. I make furniture.”

“Ah,” David understands. That makes a lot more sense than Jake working in a shop. 

“Yeah,” Jake nods, his eyes looking down at David’s lips.

“No, I did a lot of woodworking in high school,” David half-lies. He was never once in a wood shop, not his entire life, but he’d handled quite a bit of wood during his schooldays. 

Whether or not Jake picked up on the innuendo is irrelevant, not when he’s kissing David. Jake’s tongue invades David’s mouth, his rough hands grabbing at David’s expensive sweater. His beard scratches, and there’s a weird, underlying smell to him that David doesn’t like. David doesn’t like craning his neck up so high to kiss him, or the rough material of his flannel, or anything else about this situation. He wishes the lips on his were Patrick’s, instead of Jake’s.

Some part of Jake is smart enough to catch on, because he pulls back from David’s lips. “I’m a pretty open-minded guy,” Jake murmurs, pulling back. “You should stop by the shop sometime.”

“Yeah, mhmm,” David nods, knowing he’ll never be caught dead in a wood shop. 

Jake gives him a charming half-smile that would have once had David drooling and following after him. “I’ll see you around,” he says, which David finds unlikely, as he’s never seen him before. All the same, Jake takes two steps backwards, his eyes lingering on David, before he turns to go to whatever truck he drove to get here. Does everyone in this county only have a truck? All David sees is a huge collection of rusty pickup trucks parked in the grass, and David just made out with an outrageously hot guy, but is thinking about trucks instead of wanting to hold Jake down and suck him off right here. 

Patrick leans against the side of the barn next to David, his arms folded over his chest. “That was high school freshman levels of hookup,” he teases, “even by my standards, and I’m a repressed Catholic school boy.”

David snorts, then looks down at his shoes, too expensive to be in mud and grass. “Yeah, well, it didn’t feel right,” he sighs. He can’t look at Patrick’s face, looking down at his socked feet in the grass, instead. 

“That’s why I haven’t had any hookups of my own,” Patrick whispers. “It wouldn’t feel right.”

“How can you know if you don’t try?” David squeaks. “You’ve never even kissed a guy. And I don’t count. Neither does the rest of the cluster, we both know how Kostas gets.”

Patrick takes a deep breath. “No,” he says, easily. “But I don’t need to kiss any guys to know it won’t feel right.” After a moment, his fingers brush against David’s, and his rough hand wraps around David’s smooth one. “I never knew what was missing, and then I met you. I know what ‘right’ is supposed to feel like, because I feel it when I’m with you.” David’s eyes are drawn to Patrick’s, finally. They’re soft and chocolate-sweet, like a dessert David wants to indulge in forever. “You make me feel right, David.”

David can’t help himself. He surges forward and kisses Patrick, the way he’s been dreaming of since his headache cleared. Patrick kisses him back just as thoroughly, because he’s been dreaming the same thing. No kiss compares to this one, to them finally giving in to this feeling they share. David wants a lifetime of this, and he can feel, so clearly, that Patrick wants the same. 

They pull apart to take a shivering breath. David smiles as he presses his forehead to Patrick’s. “That might be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard,” he sighs. “Um. Outside of the Downton Christmas Special. So, thank you for that.”

Patrick smirks, looking David right in the eyes, but doesn’t pull away. “It’s the truth,” he whispers, his arms winding more completely around David. 

They can figure this out. Distance doesn’t matter when they can be in two places at once. Almost two thousand miles means nothing when they can look up and catch eyes with a warm smile. David isn’t letting anything ruin this, he’s all in. This feeling, this realization, makes Patrick beam at him.

With Patrick’s fingers knotted within his own, David floats his way back into the party. He finds Alexis dancing with Ted, which is an odd sight, but one that looks better on her than she knows. After a minute of searching, he finds Stevie, who is drunk, and insists that she kissed Jake. David doesn’t care about Jake; he’d almost forgotten his name at this point. 

Alexis and Ted finish their dance, and Mia pours the four of them strong drinks to close out their night. Angelina and Farha dance around the barn, and David smiles at them, at their laughing and smiling. Patrick squeezes David’s hand, and David never wants to lose this feeling. 

The strangest, most weird moment arrives with David and Alexis’ parents, shimmying into the party like they belong there. “It smells like grass in here,” Moira announces when she and Johnny walk in, looking at the drab decorations and, likely, trying to find the source of the dank scent. 

“Oh my god!” David complains, his free hand reaching up and flinging against Alexis’ arm to get her to notice this monstrosity. 

Alexis looks at David, then follows his eyeline. “Oh my god!” She agrees, half-gaping and half-glaring at their parents. Johnny and Moira finally spot their kids, dancing towards them to say hello. “Okay, this is not okay. What are you doing here?”

“Shh!” Moira hisses, lifting a finger up to Alexis’ face. “Oh, Alexis, for once in your life, please, shh!” Alexis frowns at the finger in her face, leaning away from it until Moira pulls it away.

David opens his mouth to complain, but his father beats him to the punch. “I don’t care what snarky remarks you kids make under your breath,” Johnny tells them confidently, “tonight, we’re dancing as a family.”

David rolls his eyes, but Alexis gives in easily. His cluster is already dancing and begging him to join in. Between that, the alcohol, and the euphoria of Patrick’s fingers wedged between his own, David doesn’t take much more coaxing. Before he knows it, he’s dancing with his family, his whole family. From their corners of the world, David’s entire cluster comes in and dances around him and his parents and sister. They wrap their arms around David and twirl him around, they loosen him up. Even Stevie joins in, as the whole party has joined the Roses on the dance floor. 

David lets go. He finds joy in this barn, dancing with the people that love him. He finds a first real smile to be shared in this town, and his heart feels full. He dances with Patrick, and Angelina, and Patrick, and Mia, and mostly with Patrick, but he spares a few spins for his sister and mother. 

Moira grabs David’s arm and pulls the four of them closer together. The fondness on her face is unfamiliar, but more soothing than David could’ve ever imagined. “You know, your father and I hold a great affection for you,” she tells her children. Alexis and David share a glance, not really sure where this is going. “It may not always be obvious, but-.”

“Just say it, Moira,” Johnny cuts in, smiling softly at her. 

“We love you very much,” Moira tells them. 

Maybe they had a lot of wine at their anniversary, or maybe something else happened in the very brief time David wasn’t with his parents this evening. The words are as unfamiliar as the look in her eyes, but they settle warmly in David’s chest. He, himself, hasn’t said those three little words many times in his life: once, at nine years old, when they got him a beautiful, regal horse for his birthday, and it was once screamed at Mariah Carey during a concert, for obvious reasons. 

“Love you, too!” Alexis coos, clearly touched by their admission. She’s not so frugal with her love like David, flinging the words around like they’re nothing. David knows that it’s never nothing to Alexis. 

All eyes turn to David, waiting. His cluster wraps their arms around him in an obnoxious display of affection that no one can see. He feels safe in their arms, and in his family’s gaze. David rolls his eyes, but smiles. “Love you, too,” he admits, and is surprised by the warm feeling that wraps around him just as tightly as his cluster holds him.

He notices that the twisted feeling inside him is gone, it’s barely a memory. All he feels now is a golden bubble inside. It’s unfamiliar, but he wants to bask in it. The realization hits. This is happiness. He’s found it, here in this barn, dancing with his family all around the world. He feels it because he has love in his life. What he thought before of love is nothing more than a pale imitation of true, unconditional love. He has more now than he’d ever had in the rest of his life, combined, but it’s better late than never. 

David feels this new joy, and dances until it’s time to go home. For the first time, he’s willing to admit, even just to himself, that the motel, that this town, is his home. It doesn’t fill him with as much dread as he thought. As he stumbles home with his entire family, he smiles, because, for the first time, he’s happy to be here.


	2. brighter than sunshine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, if you’re thinking you’ve been here before recently, it’s because you have! i split this fic into two chapters, because having it as one long thing was giving me hives. i hope you enjoy! love you!

David gets why the General Store is closing. Even without a business major living in his head, David knows that there is not a singular aspect of the store that is correct, aside from the idea. The town sorely needs a store, and, unfortunately, the meager excuse for one that they have is closing its doors to the public. Not only is every product selection questionable at best, but there’s no overarching aesthetic to the space, no natural flow. The owner isn’t utilizing the space properly, and David notices that it’s actually a beautiful space. In David’s well-kept hands, this space could be something perfect. Once the idea flits into his mind, Patrick is there listing off the pros and cons of taking over the store.

David definitely doesn’t want to buy this store. He doesn’t want to be associated with the concept of drain de-clogger next to baby formula to be his starting legacy. He wants to start fresh. He wants all of this garbage out before he even thinks about picking up a lease application. 

When the time comes, Patrick helps him with the lease. He helps with some market research and a few product ideas. Mostly, Patrick just bounces off of David’s ideas, trying to find a more practical, doable way of doing things. He helps David with every little step he takes into becoming a business owner. 

So, when David walks into Ray’s house to fill out his application for a business license, Patrick walks in at his side, ready to assist through this meeting. They’re both treated to perhaps the strangest photoshoot they’ve ever been exposed to, which is saying a lot, considering David once did a photoshoot in ski gear with six ferrets. 

“Okay,” Ray directs the couple, “look at her. But don't really look at her, look at me. Look at her, and look at me. Oh, that's good, that's good, closer. Closer.”

David can’t bear to witness this. “Uh, yeah,” he clears his throat loudly. “We had an appointment this morning?”

“Uh, remind me, are you here for a photo series, or travel planning, or our newest service, closet organization?” Ray asks, not even looking at David.

Annoyance seeps into David’s bones, which makes amusement seep into Patrick’s. “Um, I’m here to file my incorporation papers for my business,” David sighs. 

“Oh, yes, of course,” Ray says, finally glancing away from his viewfinder to look at David. He points over David’s shoulder with a broad, toothy smile under his mustache. “Please go over there.”

David glances over his shoulder at the desk behind him, then back to Ray. “Okay?” He sighs, walking into the office space. 

“There should be blank incorporation forms somewhere near the top,” Ray explains, going back to directing the couple. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” David hisses to himself, his eyes scanning over the desk. The desk seems organized, though piled with papers. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

Patrick chuckles and shuffles some of the papers around until he finds the applications they’re looking for. “Here,” he says, looking up to meet David’s eyes. He smiles easily and hands over the papers. 

“Thank you,” David whispers, toying with the pages. He glances at Ray and knows that he’ll be no help at all. “Do I fill this out here? Or do I bring it back? Or mail it to someone else?”

Patrick stares at Ray, his hands on his hips, unable to look away from the weirdness. “Uh, yeah, let’s fill it out somewhere else and bring it back,” Patrick suggests. “That might get a little-.”

“Distracting?” David suggests, both of them staring at the awkwardly-positioned couple. What the hell kind of engagement photos are they having done? What does love have to do with badminton?

“Yep,” Patrick chirps.

“Yeah,” David agrees, quickly moving towards the door. “I’ll be back,” he tells Ray, and doesn’t stick around to hear the response. 

In no time, David is back at the motel, sitting at the table, a pen in hand, poised to begin this questionnaire, like it’s his version of 72 Questions with Vogue. 

“Okay, name of business,” Patrick reads.

David purses his lips. “B-, um. Well, I’m still oscillating between a few names at the moment,” David explains, not ready to commit in ink to a name he’s not sure about. 

Patrick smirks fondly at him. “I liked Rose Apothecary,” he nods. “You know, it’s just pretentious enough.”

David’s jaw opens indignantly. “Would we call that ‘pretentious’?” He gasps. “Or would we say ‘timeless’?”

Patrick reaches across the table and taps the paper. “Rose Apothecary,” he insists. 

“It’s better than ‘David’s Curated Wares’,” Angelina comments in passing. David narrows his eyes at her before deciding to ignore her commentary. 

“It sounds like you’d be selling dried meat,” Youssef remarks, a slight smirk on his face.

“Thanks so much,” David says, dryly, as he writes the name down in the appropriate place. 

“What’s next, David?” Patrick prompts, attempting to keep him on track. 

David’s eyes scan the paper for the next segment. “Business address,” he reads. He furrows his brow and looks up at Patrick. “Like, this address? Where I live? Won’t it be confusing if I put the address of another business?”

Patrick takes on a hue somewhere between disbelief and fond amusement. “The address of the store, David,” he says, very gently, and not at all condescendingly. 

“Oh,” David gasps softly. He doesn’t let the embarrassment get the better of him, choosing to carefully print the address of the store-to-be. 

“It’s okay,” Patrick promises, smiling his warmth at him. His tenderness washes through David, and completely overwhelms his bashfulness. “Okay, the next one is easy: ‘Brief Description is Business’.” 

David tucks his lips between his teeth. “Mkay,” he nods. “I want it to be, like, a branded immersive experience. It’s a general store, um, but it’s a very specific store. Like, a place where people could go for coffee, or, like, drinks-. But it’s not a coffee shop-, nor is it a bar. Where we can, like, sell-. Stuff. From other people. But my brand.”

“Wow,” Patrick sighs, feigning awe. “That was so eloquent.” 

David frowns, his brow furrowed and his eyes tightened. “Wh-, excuse me if I’m feeling a little pressure!” He asserts, defensively. “This is my whole career, my first, real thing, on my own. It’s the last of my pride, and all of my money, and I’m not interested in selling myself short!”

“Just-, you can’t exactly put what your business isn’t under the description,” Patrick says. “And, you’re not on your own.” 

David rolls his eyes, momentarily touched by the sentiment. “You know what I mean,” he says. “Without my parent’s money to support me. This is just-. Me.” He takes a breath, and remembers that, no matter what, he is not alone. He has help, sitting right here, ready to be utilized. “What would you write?”

Patrick perks up, smiling brightly at David, pleaded to be asked. He looks at this sort of thing all day long at the bank; he knows exactly what to say. “I’d say something about the store being a one-stop shop for the locals of your town,” he starts. “I’d also mention partnering with local vendors and farms to provide your products and crafts, and selling them under the Rose Apothecary brand.”

David nods, turning his head down to write everything Patrick says. When he gets stuck again, Patrick just fills out the information for him, their handwriting slowly molding together throughout the form. With David’s heart and Patrick’s hands, they put the store together on this application. 

-

As David unpacks the collection of handmade granola at the back of the store, Patrick packs his belongings into his old hockey bag. David discovers this when he looks into his box of granola, and sees Patrick’s clothes, neatly folded inside. He knows they’re Patrick’s on sight, recognizing the collection, if it can be called that. He looks up and sees Patrick holding a bag of the blueberry and walnut. They smile at each other, gravitating towards each other. 

“Hi,” David breathes, brightly, always pleased to see Patrick. 

Patrick’s smile grows, somehow. “Hi,” he sighs, a happy, little breath. “I missed you.” It seems silly to say, considering they’re always together. Yesterday was the first time they hadn’t spoken, only catching little glimpses of one another throughout the day. 

David rolls his eyes, trying to suppress a pleased smile. He finds himself in Patrick’s room, holding the bag of granola in his hands. “Are you going somewhere?” He asks, conversationally. 

“Moving, actually,” Patrick says, going to grab more clothing from his dresser to pack up. 

“Oh,” David gasps. He’d felt Patrick’s restlessness, his desire to leave Edmonton, but he hadn’t expected Patrick to actually decide on a place to move to.

“Yeah, I found a room to rent,” Patrick says, very pleased with himself. 

“Wow.”

“I get a discounted rate, too, in exchange for working for my landlord two days a week as an assistant business consultant. Apparently, he has a few jobs.”

“What a deal!” David laughs, awkwardly, because he doesn’t actually know if that’s a good deal or not.

Patrick chuckles, his fondness seeping easily into David. “Yeah, it gives me a ton of free time,” he says. “So, I was thinking. You’re going to need some more start up money.” 

David’s brows raise in surprise at the shift in gears. He looks around at the store, at the half-filled shelves, and knows that Patrick is right. “Wh-, uh, where do you-? Suggest? I get that additional funding?” He stammers, muddling through his confusion. 

“There’s a few local grants you qualify for, because of your heavy usage of local products,” Patrick smiles, “and I’d be happy to help with the applications.”

“Oh,” he says. “Thank you. Um, that’s a very generous offer.”

Patrick’s grin grows a little wider. “Another way to get a little more capital is to have an investor,” Patrick explains. “A partner?”

“A partner?” David repeats, feeling the word in his mouth. The sound of it makes him smile. 

“Yeah, I think you might benefit from a Numbers Guy before you open,” Patrick nods. 

“And, um, where might I find a partner, exactly?”

“Uh, Ray’s spare room,” Patrick admits.

David’s jaw drops open in surprise. “What?” He sputters. 

“I knew that he’s the only realtor in town, so I called him and asked if he knew of any rooms to rent in town, and he said that he had a room available,” Patrick explains. 

“You’re moving-? Here?” David confirms. Patrick nods. David drops the granola back into the box and puts his hands on Patrick’s shoulders. He wants to get caught up in the excitement, but a little voice inside his own head nags just loud enough for David to listen. “You’re not-? Doing this for me-? Are you?” He doesn’t want Patrick to pick up his life and move halfway across the country because he thinks it’s what David wants. It is what David wants, he’s never wanted anything so badly in his life, but he doesn’t want Patrick here out of some false obligation. 

“I’m doing this for me,” Patrick insists. His hands slide into place on David’s waist, holding them close. “The happy feeling I’ve been chasing my whole life, I’ve finally found it. It’s here, with you, in this amazing store. I want to help you. I want to be with you. I don’t want to waste my time only halfway here. I’m all in, David. This is where I want to be.”

David fills up with warm air that threatens to lift him up off the ground. He leans in and kisses Patrick softly, because words aren’t nearly enough to express how he feels. Fortunately, Patrick can feel what David feels. Patrick wraps his arms around David, his hands roaming David’s back slowly. 

“Thank you,” David whispers. “I-. Thank you, Patrick. This means-. So much.” David sucks in a deep breath, trying to pull himself together. He feels a little unraveled, but in the best way. “Um.” He shakes his head. “When-when will you be here? Like, how soon will you actually be here, physically?”

“I’m almost done packing, so I’ll probably start driving tomorrow morning, so I can get a full day in,” Patrick explains. 

“God, you’re driving?” David groans. “That’s, like, forty-two hours.”

“It’s, like, twenty nine hours,” Patrick corrects fondly. “It was too expensive to ship my car. I really like my car.”

“Yeah, I do like that you have a car,” David agrees. He doesn’t know anything about cars, nonetheless enough to know if Patrick’s car is a nice one or not. His hands stroke over Patrick’s shoulders gingerly. “It’ll be very useful for product pickups, most likely.”

Patrick chuckles, his eyes wandering over David’s features. “I’ll drive anywhere for you,” he teases. 

David rolls his eyes and tucks his lips between his teeth. “You’ve made that very obvious,” he breathes, struck by the sentiment. “Um, in a more abstract way, I’d like to say the same for you. I mean, obviously, the driving might be difficult, because the car we have gets four miles to the gallon and only goes forty eight miles an hour, but, um. Yeah. Anything. Anytime.”

Patrick smiles at David like he’d hung the moon in the sky. “Thank you, David,” Patrick whispers. He leans in and brushes his lips to David’s again, tenderly. His excitement and adoration flows through David, and it spurs each other on. 

But before they can fall in too deep while they have other things to be done, David abruptly pulls back to look at Patrick. “Is this why I didn’t see you yesterday?” He realizes. “We’re you trying to surprise me?”

Patrick grins, almost sheepishly. “Yeah,” he admits, bobbing his head in confirmation. 

“So-. You were just not going to mention anything until you’d been driving East for hours?” David questions, an eyebrow raising. 

Patrick snorts. “I was hoping I’d make it all the way here and surprise you by walking into the store,” he teases. “I should’ve known that we can’t stay away from each other for that long.”

David smiles brightly at Patrick, nodding as he leans in to kiss his lips gently. He pecks Patrick once more, stroking his cheek gently with his ringed hand. “Ray’s house?” He squeaks. 

“He seems like a nice guy,” Patrick shrugs, innocently. 

“Um, yeah, very friendly,” David nods, his eyes lifting to the ceiling. “Probably overly so. Like, I can definitely envision a knocking issue. Maybe all of our dirty secrets being aired out to the town.”

Patrick rolls his eyes. “I doubt it’ll be like that,” he says, very calmly. 

David’s face scrunches. “Okay, you might think you know Ray,” he sighs, “but you haven’t actually met Ray. You have absolutely no idea.”

“I have some idea.”

“Do you, though?”

“David, I’m not moving into his spare room forever,” Patrick promises. “It’s just an easy way for me to get a foot in the door.”

David’s still uneasy at the idea of potentially spending more time at Ray’s weird house, but he gets over it quickly. Because, if David goes to Ray’s, it’ll be with Patrick. That very concept makes everything a little easier for David. He sucks in a deep breath and takes a half-step back. “Get to packing,” he says, gesturing at Patrick’s luggage. “You need to get to sleep early tonight so you can wake up early tomorrow and make it here.”

“Mm, I probably won’t make it tomorrow,” Patrick winks. “Definitely by the weekend.”

David sighs, his shoulders dropping heavily. “I suppose I can deal with that,” he smiles. 

Patrick chuckles softly at David, squeezing his sides gently before letting him go. “I’ll get to packing, you get to shelving,” Patrick directs, going back to his dresser and opening his drawer of neatly folded shirts. 

“But I’ll have help shelving in a few days,” David grins. “Wouldn’t it be so terrible if you showed up and there was nothing for you to do?”

Patrick raises an eyebrow at him, then looks around the store. Most of the shelves are empty, and there’s some art to be hung, not to mention some lights that need to be wired. “I doubt that’ll happen,” he smirks. 

David feels his excitement. Or, maybe it’s his own. Everything gets so blurred, especially when they’re already feeling the same thing. The thrill doubles up on itself, intensifying inside the both of them. David has to exhale a harsh stream of air to try and expel some of this excess energy. “Just pack,” he says, pointing at Patrick’s half-full duffel bag. 

Patrick’s grin only grows. “You’re the boss,” he teases. 

“Okay, ew,” David sneers, turning back to his box with the granola bags in it, pretending like he can ignore Patrick. Patrick just kisses David on the cheek and gets to work, packing up all of his things that he wants to take with him.

When David wakes the next day, Patrick has already been on the road for an hour. It’s strange, to wake up in the passenger’s seat of a car. He spends most of his day doing his tasks around the store from the passenger’s seat of Patrick’s car. The cluster rotates in the back seat, occasionally reaching up through the seats to put on their own playlists. It’s a few days of a worldwide, eight-person singalong, and all it does is pitch David’s happiness up and up. He’s had Greek and Indonesian pop songs stuck in his head before, but he’s never sang along before. He knows all the words to his cluster’s favorite songs, and it reminds him that he’s a part of something so special. Even with all eight of them in Patrick’s Nissan, it never feels tight. David realizes, in the passenger’s seat of Patrick’s car, that eight people in his head is his version of normal. More than that, he’s thankful for it.

Aside from Angelina punching out some guy who messed with her sister’s friend, the days of driving are relatively drama free. No marital arguments, or robberies, or anything remotely interesting to speak of, which is some sort of wonderful coincidence, considering there’s always something brewing. Patrick makes great time, and arrives on the third afternoon of driving. 

When Patrick’s little, silver car drives past the motel, David sees his home from the passenger window, and his heart starts to race. It’s surreal. He knew that this was going to happen; surely, he expected Patrick to drive past the motel to get to the store. But it’s the first real sign that Patrick is here. He’s really here. 

Patrick feels David’s heart racing and reaches over to hold his hand. It doesn’t do much to ease David’s heartbeat, but he likes the tangible feeling of Patrick so close. In no time, David can see his store through the windshield of the car. He swallows hard when he sees Patrick’s car drive past the storefront windows to park around back. That car really exists, which means the driver does, too. 

David is with Patrick as he puts the car in park, and, at the same time, Patrick is with David as he exits the front of the shop to power walk as quickly as he can to the back of the store. David rounds the corner as Patrick shuts off his car. Patrick gets out and turns, right as David steps around the building and onto the gravel out back. His breath catches in his throat at the sight of this reality. 

Patrick slams the car door shut, and starts walking toward David. After a bare moment, David takes a few steps to meet him, crashing into him. Without hesitation, David wraps his arms around Patrick’s shoulders in a tight hug. Patrick’s arms tighten around David’s waist, holding him closer than ever before. 

“You’re real,” David sighs, tucking his face into Patrick’s neck. 

Patrick chuckles, his arms holding David a little more firmly, as if to prove this is real. They trade places, momentarily, the line between them blurring into nothing. David can feel his own arms around Patrick’s shoulders, his solid warmth inside Patrick’s arms. 

“I’m real,” Patrick mumbles in confirmation. 

“You’re here!” David squeaks. 

“I’m here!”

David pulls back just enough to capture Patrick’s lips within his own. All the times they’ve kissed before, he’s felt Patrick’s lips on his own, as if he were really with David. This time, he feels his own lips on Patrick’s too, reality and surrealism mixing together in a gentle euphoria that shimmers inside the both of them. They pull back an inch, resting against each other and sharing a smile. 

“Do you want to go get some lunch?” David asks in a soft whisper.

Patrick grins and nods in agreement. David knows he’s starving, he can feel it like it’s his own hunger. Either way, David felt too nervous to eat that morning, though he did snack on some of the artisanal crackers he’s sampling for the store. “I’ve been dying to try the cafe in person,” Patrick teases. He takes David’s hand and starts to walk them toward the cafe. David follows closely, happy to have Patrick by his side. 

Inside the cafe, there’s only a few regulars that David vaguely recognizes. It’s between the lunch and dinner rush, so David knows they’ll get immediate attention. They take a seat across from each other at a booth, and Twyla is there in a bare few moments to hand them menus. 

“Hi!” She greets them, as brightly as ever. She turns her attention to the person she doesn’t know. “I’m Twyla, I’ll be taking care of you today.”

Patrick gives her a tight, polite smile. “Hi,” he greets. 

Twyla lingers by the table, looking back and forth between David and Patrick, like she doesn’t understand, but she smiles anyway. “So, how do you know David?” She asks, her eyes finally landing on Patrick.

“Uhh,” Patrick draws out. Despite thinking this whole decision all the way through, he hadn’t anticipated anyone actually asking him about David and how they met. He looks to David, expectantly, hoping for a little assistance. 

“Patrick is my partner,” David explains with a tight smile that doesn’t reach his eyes as he looks over Twyla. His eyes fall back to Patrick, and his smile melts into something more genuine. “He moved to town to help build my store up. He’s a business genius.”

“Bit of a stretch,” Patrick deflects, wincing, but smiling back. His heart flutters, anyway, at the very concept of his being David’s partner. David forces his grin down, tucking his lips between his teeth and looking down at the table. 

Twyla looks like she’s fighting to keep a broad smile off her face. Though David doesn’t really think much of her when they’re not together, Twyla thinks of David as her friend. To see him with someone who can make him smile, who smiles back just as openly, makes Twyla happy, which makes Patrick happy. “Can I get you two anything to drink?” She asks. 

“Um, I will have the Harvest Smoothie, but only if it’s mostly greens,” David says. “I don’t want any beets or carrots, so if it’s mostly warm colors, I don’t want it, I’ll just have a cup of coffee.”

Twyla nods and looks at Patrick. It’s strange, to sit here with Patrick, and finally have others be able to see him, too. “A cup of tea, please,” Patrick smiles, opening up his comically large menu.

Twyla nods in understanding and turns to walk away, presumably to make their drinks. David notices when she pulls her phone out of her apron pocket and start typing. There’s probably a Jazzagals group text he’s having his laundry aired in, or she’s texting Stevie about his lunchtime company, or something equally horrific. 

“Hey,” Patrick says, trying to hide a smirk from David. “We’re having our first real date and you’re more distraught than you were that time Roland asked you to go to Blouse Barn with him.”

“It’s not you, obviously,” David sighs. “I literally couldn’t be happier that you’re here.” He pointedly looks at Twyla. “She’s texting.”

“So?” Patrick shakes his head, but is no less amused. 

“She never texts at work unless something happens,” David explains. 

“Something did happen,” Patrick smirks. “David Rose is at the cafe with a newcomer.”

David squeezes his eyes shut tightly. “Okay, can we not make this town feel more cultish than it already does?” He complains. 

“There’s a new person in a town where new people rarely come through,” Patrick reminds him, “and he’s sitting with the town’s most boisterous recluse.”

“Okay,” David clips, not exactly liking that phrasing. 

“I’ve never been gossip in a small town,” Patrick beams. 

David rolls his eyes. “It’ll lose its edge,” David promises. He flips open the menu and peruses it for a moment or two. Though he’s not looking, he doesn’t miss the fond, lingering smile on Patrick’s face as he watches David for a moment or two. 

Twyla comes back with their drinks to take their order. After a lot of internal debating that Patrick has a front row seat to, Davis orders a BLT, but wonders if he’s made a mistake, not ordering the rueben. Patrick orders David’s second choice of sandwich, knowing they’ll trade halves. David hides a smile at the gesture, but he can’t really hide from Patrick. 

Just as Twyla leaves their table, Alexis stomps into the cafe. Patrick sees her first, so David doesn’t have to turn to know that she’s there. He just sags with a sigh.

“It’s okay,” Patrick says, soft and warm. 

David purses his lips. “Is it, though?” He asks. 

Patrick chuckles quietly as Alexis arrives tableside. “Um, hi,” she says, clearly annoyed with David for not being kept in whatever loop this is. 

“Hi,” David sighs back. 

She turns sharply to Patrick, extending a dainty, limp hand along with a dazzling smile. “Alexis Rose,” she introduces herself. “Alexis Rose Interprises.”

“Oh,” Patrick says, taking her hand, not exactly expecting a shake. “Wow, so formal.”

“Alexis, this is Patrick,” David explains, with an upwards twist of his lips. He never thought he’d be introducing Patrick to anyone, nonetheless his sister.

Alexis looks back and forth between David and Patrick for a few moments, the both of them watching realization dawn on her face. “Oh-oh, my god!” She gasps. “Like-? Your Patrick? The one, like-?” She taps her fingers to her temple. 

Patrick smiles broadly at the sound of being David’s. “Yeah,” he nods, shaking her hand a little more firmly. “That’d be me.”

With a surprising amount of strength, Alexis yanks Patrick out of the booth and hugs him tightly with a squeal. That’s a little more along the lines of what Patrick had been expecting. “Oh, my god, it is so good to finally meet you!” She squeaks, excitedly. Patrick pats her on the back gently, and she pulls back, scrutinizing every inch of him. This is exactly what he’d expected. “You’re so much more of a little cutie button-face than I thought.” She reaches up and boops his nose with a sweet smile.

“Okay,” David frowns. “Did you actually want something? Aside from accosting my partner? Or was that all on the docket today?”

Alexis frowns right back at him. “Well, excuse me for caring,” she lilts. “Twyla said you were having lunch with a cute man, and that sounded too much like that time James Franco wanted to to go halfsies on an island to start a cult with you.”

David isn’t embarrassed by that snippet of story, though he is a little embarrassed about how close he was to putting a deposit down on said island. “Well, there are no cults to be formed here,” he says, “so you can consider this to be an open invitation to leave.”

Alexis can’t believe what she’s hearing. “You’re not even going to pretend like you want me to sit for a sec?” She demands, her wrists hinging delicately. 

“No,” David tells her, sharply, and from his upturned nose. 

Alexis takes a second to recover. Patrick tries his hardest not to grin as he looks back and forth between the Roses whilst they bicker. “Mkay,” she sneers, turning back to Patrick. “I will leave you to it,” she pokes at Patrick’s shoulder to punctuate her words. “It was super cute to meet you. I feel bad that you have to live inside my brother’s head.” She twirls her hand, her index finger extended, before booping Patrick on the nose again. “I’m gonna go, um, find Mom, so I can tell her that your psychic boyfriend is now more of an actual, physical boyfriend now. Byee!” She wiggles her fingers, dragging out her farewell as she makes a quick exit. 

“Oh my god!” David complains, his hands gripping his temples, like that’ll help anything. 

Patrick sits back down, reaching out through their connection to soothe David. “It’s not like they weren’t going to find out put me being here,” he shrugs, softly. 

David sighs and presses his fingers over his eyes. “Is an hour too much to ask for?” He asks. “Just one-. Uninterrupted hour. Or even, like, twenty minutes? That doesn’t seem like too much to ask for, right?”

“No, not at all,” Youssef says from the next booth over, his arms hanging over beside David. 

“Privacy is so important, isn’t it, David?” Mia asks, her arms folded over her chest, staring pointedly at him. She leans against Patrick’s side of the booth, staring him down with some intensity. David has walked in on her and her girlfriend plenty of times, enough times to know that there is no such thing as privacy anymore. 

“Okay, alright, I get it,” he sighs, pulling his hands from his face and plopping them on the table to glare at the intrusions. 

Patrick chuckles, sliding his hands into David’s. It’s an action they’ve done a hundred times, but not like this. Visiting in person is a very different experience. It’s like David’s never had his hands held before. “We’re gonna be okay,” Patrick says, soft and confident, the way he always is. And, just like always, David believes him. 

-

David trudges to work, a large box of doggie sweaters in-hand. It’s relatively light, but it’s very awkwardly shaped, and hard to carry with his bag. Patrick walks beside him, his brow furrowing at the box. “What is this?” Patrick asks, looking back up at David. 

“Um, they’re tiny little sweaters for the pet thing at Ted’s,” David explains, breathlessly. “Alexis asked me to drop them off for her.”

“Why couldn’t she do it?” Patrick asks, and, honestly, the fact that he’s not up everything is so inconvenient. Patrick is supposed to be in his head.

“Things are-, um, well, tense, shall we say,” David explains, adjusting the box in his arms. 

“Yeah, right, because of the whole ‘I love you’ thing,” Patrick remembers. 

“So awkward,” David sighs. “I, like, cringe, just thinking about it.”

“Yeah, imagine how Alexis must feel,” Patrick teases him, trying to lend him a little empathy. 

David takes the spark Patrick lends him with a roll of his eyes. “It takes a lot of courage to say something like that to someone you’re not even with,” David admits, softly. “I’m just dreading having to face Ted, because I know, and I’m sure he knows that I know.”

Patrick nods, knowingly. “Mhmm, yeah,” he bobs his head, “I just noticed that you missed the turn to go to Ted’s. It sort of looks like you’re coming here, instead.”

David can’t believe he’s been caught. He can’t believe he didn’t expect to be caught. Patrick literally knows what David is thinking and feeling. “Wh-,” David stammers. “I-I was just wondering, um, how your day was looking?”

“I’m not taking the box to Ted’s for you, David,” Patrick explains, very calmly.

“But it would save me so much distress!” David complains, sagging as he trudges up the short stairs to the door of the store.

“Is that distress?” Patrick teases him, the both of them knowing that David is not nearly as distressed as he’s pretending to be. “It doesn’t really feel like distress. It feels more like-.” Patrick stacks his hands on top of each other, both palms facing down, twirling his thumbs in circles.

David huffs, opening the door. He backs in, and the box gets stuck in the doorway. He turns to try and give the box a little more room, but gets it more wedged into place. He grunts as he tries to pull it through, putting some effort into his struggle. Eventually, he forces through, nearly falling when he’s completely inside. He kicks the door closed behind him and turns to look at Patrick, only to find their cluster standing behind him, all of them watching. 

“That looked more like distress,” Patrick grins, his arms folded over his chest. 

“Have you been going to the gym? Because that looked effortless,” Farha teases, knowing very well that, obviously, David hadn’t been to the gym any time recently. 

“Okay, thanks so much,” David sighs. He starts toward the counter to put the box down, but Patrick stops him in his tracks.

“I’m not taking the box to Ted’s for you, David,” Patrick insists, again, his brows raised slightly in an unimpressed look. David stops and frowns, but doesn’t move further into the store. Patrick takes a step toward David, reaching out to grasp his shoulders. “What you’re doing is very brave, and very generous.” David gets the feeling that Patrick is fucking with him, but he accepts the complement, all the same. “And I don’t want to add more stress to your day, but I love you.”

David freezes at Patrick’s words. He knows that Patrick loves him, he can feel it just as clearly as he feels his own love for Patrick in return. He’s never heard the words before, though. Patrick has never said them before. Mixed in with his own turmoil is Patrick’s simmering amusement. It’s a real feeling, Patrick really means it, staring into David’s eyes with a mischievous adoration. 

“So, you just said that to me for the first time, knowing it would make my day more stressful,” David recaps, fighting against his own cringing. 

“That’s correct,” Patrick nods, not holding back his smug grin. “And you don’t have to say it back. I know you’ve only said it to your parents, twice, and one time at a Mariah Carey concert, so don’t feel pressure to say anything. I already know. I just thought it felt right in the moment.”

David tucks his lips in between his teeth, nodding in agreement at the sentiment, but the words hesitate in his throat. He does love Patrick. He loves him more than anyone, more than anything in the world. But saying the words is a weak spot for David. 

“You’re my Mariah Carey,” Patrick murmurs, and David can’t take it. That’s the best thing anyone has ever said to him, ever.

David’s eyes squeeze shut and he has to take a step back, just to collect himself. “That compliment could bring me to tears, but I’m not going to let it,” he sighs, his eyes opening and landing on Patrick. “I-,” he stammers, “um, I would like to say ‘thank you’-. For those kind words.” His jaw flexes with uncertainty, but he strong force of love flowing from Patrick doesn’t waver. “I will be going to take these over to Ted’s now.”

Patrick smirks at him. “Would you get me a tea while you’re out?” He asks, still gently messing with David. 

“Yes, I will get you a tea,” David promises, walking backwards towards the door with the big, stupid sweater box in arm. “Um, if you could-, not look at me? While I’m leaving?” Patrick doesn’t advert his gaze when David opens the door. “Look away. Please.” He doesn’t want Patrick to regret saying such kind, beautiful things to him. Unfortunately, Patrick doesn’t look away, and just watches him struggle to get through the door. “So embarrassing,” David whispers to himself when he’s outside, door closed firmly behind him. 

“That’s not even the most embarrassing thing you’ve done this week,” Patrick grins at him. David can still feel Patrick’s love coursing through him, bright and whole, which does make David feel a little better. 

David groans, pretending like he can ignore Patrick as he walks to Ted’s office. He can hear the dogs in the kennel before he even walks inside, which makes David wince. He doesn’t really like going to the Vet’s, it brings back all kinds of humiliating feelings. 

Ted hasn’t hired a new assistant since Alexis quit, so the office is mercifully empty. Hoping to make it out undetected, David silently places the box down on the desk. He turns to leave, but a voice rings out over the barking. “David!” Ted says, and David jumps at the sound, turning to see him behind the desk, like magic. 

“Hey!” David beams, pretending like this isn’t weird. “It’s me!” He chuckles, awkwardly, gesturing to himself.

“Good to see you, man,” Ted smiles, awkwardly, stepping around the counter to make it obvious he wants David to stay for a second. 

“Yeah, good to see you, too,” David says, bobbing his head, nervously. Ted takes a step closer and sort of holds out his arms, and it makes David feel weird. 

“Hug him, he wants you to hug him, and I want you to hug him, ” Kostas coaxes in David’s head, passing like a bare-moment thought. 

“He’s going to cry on you,” Angelina warns.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” David babbles through them, taking two big steps to cross the room and extending him the most awkward hug he’s ever been a party to, especially because Ted starts to go in for the handshake. David leans his body forward, extending his arms like wings, and Ted sort of jumps in surprise. 

“Oh, okay,” Ted agrees, trying to hug David, but David swoops down and hugs around his torso, which forces Ted to pat his shoulder. 

“Wow, it’s like you’ve never been hugged before,” Youssef judges, and David hates his teeth at him, not liking the commentary from the peanut gallery. 

David steps away, a little closer to the box. “I was just dropping off these, um, dog sweaters,” David explains, tapping the cardboard. “For the pet adoption thing.”

“Okay, great, yeah,” Ted nods, though not as enthusiastically as he normally would. “You know it’s always gifts for the dogs, never for me. One of my pet peeves.” It’s a joke, but David doesn’t laugh. “I’m sorry, I was expecting Alexis, so you showing up here has really thrown me off my game.”

David shakes his head in disagreement. “No, your game is-, tight,” David promises, because most of Ted’s game is his face and body, and he’s still got those, regardless of his bad jokes. “Um, Alexis actually asked me to drop these off. She was really swamped with the whole launch for the Singles Week thing.”

“She told you, didn’t she?” Ted calls him out. 

David nods. “She did, yeah, she told me.”

“It just caught me off guard,” Ted stammers. “You know? ‘I love you.’ I just-. I don’t-.”

“Yeah, no,” David steps in, agreeing with him. “That is an emotional depth that is very, very out of character for her, so I can see how that would be weird for you.” He clears his throat, and really wants to leave now. He turns and starts to do exactly that. “So, I should be, uh-.”

“I broke up with Heather,” Ted interrupts, forcing the words out. 

That piques David’s interest. “So I should be staying. Then. For a minute.” It definitely feels like something he should be invested in, and he’s definitely enticed. Ted hangs his head, pitifully. “Um, do you want to sit? For a sec?” David waves his arm at the bench he’s standing beside. 

“Yeah,” Ted agrees, taking shuffling steps to cross his office. He sits with a sad huff, and David frowns sympathetically as he joins him. “I just-, I thought I was over Alexis. I thought I was happy with Heather, and then I realized I was just pushing everything I feel about Alexis onto Heather.”

“Yeah, not a good way to be,” David sighs in agreement, rubbing his palms over his knees. 

“And Heather is great!” Ted tries. “I really like her. She’s smart and capable and really cool.” David knows all of this. He’s not sure how this will all affect his goat cheese contact for the store, but he’s still willing to support Ted through this. “But I owed it to her to be honest.”

David nods along. “Mhm,” he agrees. “So, then, are you gonna talk to Alexis about all of this?” Because he wants Ted to. He really wants him to talk this out with her.

“Honestly, I don’t know,” Ted sighs, shaking his head. “I don’t know if I’m ready to put myself out there like that again. I mean, David, I spent two weeks in Mexico, alone, on our honeymoon, just trying to get my life back on track.”

David blinks in surprise. Ted’s trip hadn’t been phrased that way at all. “Yeah, that sounds very dark,” he comments, quietly.

Ted sighs, heavy and helpless. “I mean, do you know how many off-road dirt bike tours I went on, just to get her out of my head?”

“Shockingly, never been on a dirt bike,” David admits with a point of his finger. “Um, but, I’m sure, like-? A lot?”

“A lot,” Ted says at the same time, a sad look on his puppy-dog face. “A lot of tours, David.”

David takes a breath, trying to think of the right thing to say to him. “Okay, um, look,” he starts. “I would hardly call myself an expert on this subject. And by ‘this subject’, I mean genuine human emotion. So I am just going to tell you what I know. And you can do whatever you want with that. Okay?” Ted nods in agreement. “I know that your name has come up in conversation every single day for the last six months.” Ted looks surprised by that, even though it’s absolutely true. For every time David talked about Patrick, Alexis talked about Ted. “Um. I know that she’s different now. I mean, not that different, obviously. But-. Different enough to know that she made a mistake with you.” David pauses when Ted gets a dismayed look on his face. “Or-. Two mistakes. Or was it more?”

“No, it was just the two,” Ted interrupts, holding up two fingers, referring to the two times Alexis rejected his proposal. David nods in understanding, extending a sympathetic smile. “Yeah.”

David feels kind of bad about Ted being hurt. David knows the pain of being hurt by people he cares about. Then again, he’s never felt this way before; he’s not afraid of being hurt. And Ted shouldn’t be afraid either, not of Alexis. David can imagine her in a few years, taking her turn down on one knee, promising him a life together. David knows his sister won’t hurt him again. And he knows that he’s the only one who can tell Ted that. 

David clears his throat. “Anyway,” he murmurs. “So you’ve been burned a couple of times. Um, have we met? I’m basically the human equivalent of the inside of a roasted marshmallow.” He senses a presence behind him and glances to the side, catching a flash of Patrick. They’re always at the back of each other’s minds, but this is a little more significant. Alexis just told Ted that she loves him. Patrick just told David that he loves him. He and Ted are sort of in the same boat here. “But I think it’s important to remember that sometimes-.” Patrick locks eyes with David and gives him a little smile before putting two bottles of warming massage oil into a tote bag. “Sometimes it does work out. And, um, even though everything inside of us is telling us to protect ourselves, when you’ve got it, don’t let it go.”

For a moment, David is overwhelmed with himself. Usually, this pep-talk would be directed at him by someone else in his cluster. This time, he’s the one to give it, and it’s just as effective. He’s not afraid of being hurt, or being left behind. He clears his throat. “And, um,” he continues softly, “I’m telling you that you’ve got it. If you want it.”

Ted smiles a little, looking confused but relieved. “Thank you, David,” he whispers. 

David returns the soft smile, nodding once in acknowledgement. He stands, ready to get out of this weird, barking emotion circle. He spots a plate of cookies on the counter, and they look too good to ignore any further. “Maybe this can be your ‘thank you’,” he says, grabbing one and lifting it to his mouth. 

“That’s a dog treat,” Ted tells him, just as David takes a large bite out of it. 

The dog treat sits in David’s mouth. “It looks like a real treat,” David complains, defensively, words garbled between the mouthful. “What am I gonna do now?” He doesn’t wait for the answer, leaving before he can get caught in any more mortifying bullshit. He pushes into Ted’s bathroom, spitting the treat into the toilet, then rinsing his mouth out about a hundred times. If he doesn’t want to let go anymore, then he better not have any excuses to be let go of. 

He leaves the vet’s before he can get caught up in anything else. He wants to go tell Patrick something he should’ve said, at the very least, about fifteen minutes ago. In reality, he should’ve said it the day Patrick arrived in town, or the day Patrick helped him with Wendy, or maybe the first day they met. 

Right when he gets the store in his sights, and he sees customers through the window, Patrick steps in front of him to stop him from going any further. His brows are raised expectantly, like David has forgotten something, which he’s sure he hasn’t. There’s only one thing on David’s mind, and there’s no way he could forget about it now. 

“What?” He asks, intelligently. 

“My tea?” Patrick reminds him, very gently. 

David stops, surprised. “But I-,” he stammers. But he has to tell Patrick something very important. He takes a breath, rolls his eyes, and groans, but changes course to the Cafe to get Patrick a tea, just the way he likes it. 

The cafe is stupidly busy. Patrick probably knew it would be busy, too. Everyone, including Twyla, is right in the middle of a Singles Week event that, from what David can tell, boils down to speed dating. George is the one doing everything behind the counter while Twyla participates beside Alexis. As he waits to order, David smiles a little to himself, suddenly struck by how proud he is of his little sister. She did this whole thing, mostly by herself, and it seems to be a success, based on all the smiling faces and commotion. 

David taps his hand on the counter, smooshed between two people he doesn’t know. He can see the electric kettle boiling and shutting off, but George hasn’t noticed. George seems to be too busy watching the event to be paying attention to tea for Patrick. The room starts to quiet down as Endah taps his shoulder and points to get his attention. David’s eyes follow where she’s pointing, where everyone else is looking. 

Ted seems to have just sat down across from Alexis. He reaches out for Alexis’ hand, and they both stand. After a moment of nervous gazing, Ted leans in and kisses her. She’s quick to kiss him back, clearly ready to hold on and never let go. The entire room, all of these singles, burst into applause, and David can’t help but join in. 

He’s happy for her, for the both of them. He’s so happy, he can’t contain it, his hands shake in victorious fists. What David said clearly made as much of an impact on Ted a sit had on himself. His happiness for Alexis leeches out into his cluster, half of them with David, cheering just as loudly. 

David’s impatience wares off, and he’s happy to wait another minute for the tea. He thanks George when he’s finally given the sleeved go-cup, and makes his exit, squirming through the crowd to get to the door. He smiles at the sight of his store across the square, and walks as quickly as his dignity will allow. When he’s close enough, David can see, through the glass, that Patrick is finishing up ringing someone out. He enters the store just as the customer is leaving, and he holds the door open for her with a smile. 

“Well, David, I’ve got to hand it to you, we’ve already sold half our massage oils,” Patrick compliments, though David can feel the wriggling of upcoming teasing. It doesn’t matter, nothing anyone can say could damper his happiness right now. “It’s like you’re an oracle in the sex lives of lonely people.” Patrick starts to walk around the counter to meet him.

“It’s a gift,” David deflects with a shrug. He holds up the tea, then sets it down on the counter. 

“Thank you,” Patrick smiles, his hands falling on David’s waist. “That was a really nice thing you told Ted.”

David definitely doesn’t need to be told this. Instead, he wraps his arms around Patrick’s shoulders and kisses him. He can’t help himself. He can feel his own happiness inside Patrick, he feels the same. He’s never felt luckier when it comes to really kissing a pair of lips. 

“I love you,” David whispers in Patrick’s ear through their connection, their lips not parting. It replays in a loop in both of their heads. “I love you I love you I love you.” Patrick hears him, and kisses David back thoroughly, his strong arms wrapping around David safely. 

When David pulls back, Patrick looks dazed, completely love-struck. David decides he’s going to keep that beautiful expression on Patrick’s face for as long as he fucking can. 

“I love you,” David tells him, quietly, but aloud. 

Patrick is overwhelmed by emotion. He gets this beautiful, teary-eyed smile on his face that squeezes at David’s heart, making his own eyes well up. David sniffles, trying time pull himself back together.

“I know I’ll never compete with Mariah, but this kinda feels like one of those perfect moments you dream about,” Patrick murmurs.

David rolls his eyes at Patrick’s words. He’s not sure if he’ll ever be used to Patrick’s tenderness in person. “We could’ve had this perfect moment slightly sooner, but someone made me go get him some tea,” David snarks, but he’s happy to have this little bit of perfection with Patrick. 

Patrick’s smile grows as he shakes his head. “But, if you hadn’t gone to get the tea, you wouldn’t have seen Alexis and Ted’s reunion,” he reasons, softly. “That would’ve been a real shame.”

David can’t really argue with that. “Well, I’m glad I could make this perfect moment perfect,” he sighs. He purses his lips. “And, um, just so that you’re aware, you’re on the same level as Mariah.”

Patrick grins and nods. “I’m honored,” he accepts happily, leaning in to kiss David again. David nods, attempting to repress a smile when Patrick’s lips meet his own. Patrick feels his smile, against his lips and his heart, and smiles into David’s lips, far more willing to feel their feelings externally. 

-

About a half hour before rehearsal for Cabaret, Stevie stops by for a visit, obviously planning to walk with Patrick to meet David’s mother. David’s gotten very good at giving his cluster, but specifically Patrick, privacy. Months into their in-person relationship, he’s now very comfortable with the idea of Patrick and Stevie talking without the FOMO forming in David’s gut. The two of them laughing together is a warm, welcome sound, one he can tune out easily as he goes about his dusting. 

“I never actually heard how you two met,” Stevie admits. “You just showed up one day, like you’ve always been here.”

Patrick looks at David, then gets his attention through their connection. David turns at Patrick’s intrusion, looking at the version directly beside him, then turning completely to look at the both of them across the store. “Huh?” He asks, slightly lost, having not been paying attention. 

“Nothing, I was just asking Patrick how you two met,” Stevie explains. 

“Oh,” David says, quietly, crossing the store with his feather duster in hand. 

“David and I are in the same cluster,” Patrick explains, fondly. 

Stevie’s nose wrinkles in confusion. “What the hell is a cluster?” She asks, never having heard the word in this context. 

Patrick’s mouth falls open in surprise, turning to look at David incredulously. “You haven’t told her?” He asks, shocked to bits. 

“Told me what?” Stevie demands, not liking being out of the loop. Her hands find her hips, shifting her weight impatiently. 

“Uh, David and I have a special connection,” Patrick tries to explain. 

Stevie rolls her eyes with a disgusted groan. “Okay, you guys are cute, but you’re not that cute,” she complains. 

“See? This is why I didn’t tell her,” David says, his eyes roaming her body judgmentally. Stevie sneers right back at him, clearly not liking his expression or tone. 

“We have a psychic connection,” Patrick explains, wincing at how stupid that sounds. 

There’s a lingering silence between the notes of their jazzy background music. After a moment or two, Stevie bursts out laughing, her head thrown back and her arms wrapped around her belly. “That’s a good one,” she snorts, pointedly dabbing at her eye. 

“We’re serious,” they say at the same time. 

“Wow, like in The Shining,” she pokes with an amused grin. “That’s really good, did you practice that?”

David huffs with a roll of his eye and a toss of his hand. “Last year, the Capitals won the Stanley Cup,” David recites information he only knows because it’s lodged in the back of Patrick’s mind. “They beat the Golden Knights. The Penguins won the year before that against the Predators, and the year before that against the Sharks.”

“The theme for last year’s Met Gala was Heavenly Bodies,” Patrick chimes in. “Rihanna wore a custom piece by John Galliano and loaned the headpiece from the Vatican.”

Stevie looks almost convinced, but like she needs a little more evidence. “What did Madonna wear?” She asks, suspiciously. 

“A black Jean Paul Gaultier with a veil,” David remembers with Patrick’s voice.

“Oh my god,” Stevie jumps, stumbling back, her eyes darting back and forth between them. She grasps onto the counter to keep her balance. 

“We can keep going,” Patrick smirks, gesturing between he and David. 

“Please don’t,” Stevie begs, shell-shocked. She takes a moment to compose herself, then reaches over and punches David in the arm. Patrick winces at the impact, like he got hit at the same time. “You felt that?!”

“Yeah, you’ve got a hell of an arm,” Patrick complains, rubbing the spot on his arm that didn’t actually get punched. Phantom pain is always a strange side effect to their little miracle. David remembers spitting blood at the same time Angelina 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Stevie demands, her frustration with him very clear. 

“We’re not supposed to tell anyone!” David yelps. 

Mia, sitting on one of their tables, watching the interaction, rolls her eyes. “That’s such a lame excuse,” she accuses him.

“Wh-! We’re not!” He insists. 

“I think you can probably tell your best friend,” Patrick shrugs, gently. 

“Yeah, I think you should definitely tell your best friend about your psychic boyfriend,” Stevie agrees, folding her arms over her chest as she stares pointedly at David. 

David takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. Through their connection, Patrick puts a hand on his shoulder, and the rest of the cluster joins in the support. “We’re two of eight,” David sighs. “We’re connected to six other people, all around the world.”

“And Gwen,” Patrick adds with a smile. 

David‘s brow furrows with a confused shake of his head. “Who is Gwen?” He asks. 


End file.
